


Once Upon a December

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anastasia AU, BALTHAZAR IS A PUPPY, Botching History, Con man!Sam, Dean and Sam are not related, Dean is a member of the Imperial Court, I attempted to fix history, I have consulted for Russian Swear Words, Lost Romanov!Lucifer, M/M, Mystic!Dick, Now he forges papers, Period Era Internalized Homophobia, Russian spoken, Sebastian Roche/Balthazar is a puppy, Tailor!Crowley, because let's be real, or was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 08:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10272470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: Luka joins up with con man Sam and his partner in crime, a forger named Dean on a journey to find his past. In order to do so, he has to pretend to be the long lost Romanov Tsarevitch, Lucifer, who was never killed in the Siege of 1918 and for whom the retired Emperor of Russia, Charles Romanov has offered a reward if they deliver his favorite grandson to Paris. However, the mystic Dick Roman has discovered that Luka is the long lost Romanov and has vowed to make sure that the Romanov Curse is complete with his sidekick, his old tailor Crowley.It’s the Samifer Anastasia AU no one has asked for but everyone needs.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Treasure7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treasure7/gifts).



> This is all Alicia’s fault. 
> 
> This is for my beautiful, wonderful, intelligent, sister from another mister and pretty much Swedish twin Alicia. She got this idea in my head, and has been there for me through so much pain and happiness. I think she spoils me more than anyone else I know and I love her for it, even when I protest at it. I really hope you enjoy this, Princess!!
> 
> Yes, I recognize that I have changed about a thousand names and genders of people here. I also recognize that this version has never been particularly historically accurate. I have changed it a bit so it fits in more with the actual timeline and have added Russian with the help of @trisscar368 (Spasiba, Ry), who has also advised me on COUNTLESS little Russian things and has edited, beta’d, and made a complete mockery of this fic on occasion but has loved me through it.

_ There was a time, not too long ago, when we lived in an era of elegance and grand parties. The year was 1918, and my son, Mikhail, was the czar of Imperial Russia. We were celebrating the 300th anniversary of our family’s rule, and no star burned brighter than that of our sweet Lucifer, my favorite grandchild. He had  _ begged  _ me not to return to Paris, so I had bought him a gift to make the separation easier. It was a music box, and it played the lullabye I’ve been singing to him since he was born, so he could play it at night and pretend it was me singing. And it came with a key- a small, circular and floral silver and blue key that read  _ Together in Paris.  _ Lucifer was overjoyed at the gift and was excited at the prospect of being with me in Paris one day.  _

_ But we would never be together in Paris. For that night, a dark shadow fell over our family. His name was Dick Roman, and we thought he was a holy man but he was a fraud. He had come to the party that night, and Mikhail was enraged.  _

_ “How  _ dare  _ you show your face here? Get out!” he had snarled, glaring at the former advisor to the Russian throne.  _

_ Dick smiled sickly and Lucifer cowered into me, longing to run to his father, but knowing he couldn’t, so he curled into me. I held him close. “Why, I’m one of your loyal subjects, Majesty!” he simpered, eyes yellow in the bright lights of the palace.  _

_ “Bah! You are a traitor! You’re  _ banished! _ Get out!” Mikhail said. Ana, his empress, placed a gentle, calming hand on his shoulder.  _

_ “You think that you can banish the great Dick Roman? By the unholy power vested in me, you and your family will be  _ cursed.” 

_ The palace erupted into gasps and Lucifer held onto me tighter.  _

_ “You and your family will be dead within a fortnight! I will not rest until the last of the Romanovs are dead!” Dick  vowed and turned and left.  _

_ Consumed by his hatred for my family, Dick sold his soul to fulfill his dark promise.  _

_ And within a fortnight, there was a revolution. A siege was laid upon the palace, and I was hurrying Lucifer out of the palace, to get him on the train. Then, at least, I could take him with me to Paris.  _

_ We passed by the rest of our family. Dear little Gabriyel, running as fast as he could, his handler behind him. The poor child had been sick his entire life. Beautiful Naomi, pinned against the wall by one of the revolutionaries while handsome Zakhariya fought to get him off of his sister. Amara, the eldest, was nowhere to be found. Ana, my beautiful daughter in law and Empress of all of Russia, was dead already, and I could hear Mikhail attempting to defend his house and family in another room, pistol firing. _

_ “My music box!” Lucifer cried out suddenly and he turned tail and ran back to his room.  _

_ “Lucifer!” I shouted, running after him.  _

_ I found him, where he was opening his nightstand and taking out the cylindrical blue and silver music box.  _

_ “Hurry, they’re coming.”  _

_ Men with rifles and bayonets were coming, and I knew that they would not hesitate to shoot the retired Emperor and an eight year old child.  _

_ Lucifer stashed his music box inside his coat, bright blue eyes wide and helpless as the two of us looked around for a way out. His eyes dashed to the window, but we knew he would never survive the fall. Not with the fire outside. _

_ “Here, quick!” a young boy, about the same age as Lucifer said, pushing us towards a door in the wall. “Through the servants’ quarters!”  _

_ Lucifer turned as if to go back out. “My music box!”  _

_ “Go! I’ll hold them off!” he said and I grabbed Lucifer’s hand.  _

_ We ran away from the palace, towards the town. The roads were blocked, so we ran along the icy river. We passed underneath the bridge, and Lucifer slipped and fell, his lip splitting open and bleeding slightly.  _

_ “I’m fine, Grandpapa,” he assured me as he stood up and began running again, not phased by his fall.  _

_ Suddenly, we heard  the ice cracked and a triumphant sneer. Lucifer and I turned to look, seeing Dick Roman on the ice, a black onyx horn in his hands.  _

_ “Dick Roman!” I gasped, going to shield Lucifer from him, but some things are hereditary. Lucifer stood in front of me, pushing me out of the way, every inch my Misha as he stared him down.  _

_ “You’ll never escape me, you little Romanov brat!” Dick hissed. _

_ Lucifer cocked his head to the side curiously. I saw him calculating everything about the situation. Trying to get him to sit still for his lessons with his tutors was a nightmare, but Lucifer loved to read.  _

_ Suddenly, Lucifer jumped closer to Dick. The mystic was surprised by the boldness, and fell backwards into a small opening in the ice. The ice broke underneath Dick’s weight and Lucifer turned tailed and ran, and then I saw the fear on his face. “Let’s go, Grandpapa!” he shouted, taking off as fast as he could. I followed him, grabbing onto his hand as I caught up with him. _

_ We ran to the train station, but the train was pulling out of the station, and I barely managed to get on. Little Lucifer was running as fast as his legs could carry him, and I grabbed his hand, trying to pull him onto the train.  _

_ “Don’t let go!” he pleaded with me.  _

_ Unfortunately, the sweat and strain became too much, and we let go. People tried to catch him but he fell too quickly and fell onto the platform.  _

_ “LUCIFER!” I cried out, tears trailing down my cheeks.  _

_ So many lives were destroyed that night. What always had been was gone forever. And my Lucifer, my beloved grandson. . . I never saw him again.  _


	2. Rumor in St Petersburg: Ten Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been 10 years since the revolution, and Sam Winchester has started a rumor in St. Petersburg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically the "I learned about sex workers in the palace" chapter because Ry had to educate me on the difference between Hocker and Hawker.

“St. Petersburg is gloomy,” a woman murmured to her husband as they passed under the shadow of  the local church. 

“St. Petersburg is bleak,” another man muttered to his business partner as they opened up their shop for the day. 

“My underwear is frozen from standing here all week,” a beggar complained, shivering.  

“Oh since the revolution, our lives have been so grey, thank goodness for the gossip that gets us through the day!”

“HEY! Have you heard, there’s a rumor in St. Petersburg, have you heard, what they’re saying on the street?” 

_ Although the Czar did not survive, one child may still be alive _

_ The Tsarevitch Lucifer! _

But please do not repeat!

“It’s a rumor, a legend, a mystery, something whispered in an alleyway or through a crack,” one woman told her husband, who rolled his eyes and muttered how he wishes women wouldn’t gossip so much, but he knew that it was possible. 

“It’s a rumor that’s part of our history!” a different man told his son as he tugged him along, looking for a dentist or doctor who could remove the obviously infected tooth. 

_ They say his royal grandpapa will pay a royal sum, to someone who can bring his Tsarevitch back!  _

Sam Winchester strolled through the streets of St. Petersburg, on his way to the place he and his partner were staying at temporarily. He smirked to himself as he moved through the streets, noticing everyone talking about Lucifer. Sure, he knew him. He was, after all, the one who got him out of the palace. Whether he was alive or dead was beyond him; he had been knocked out by the rioters. But, hey, a man could dream. 

Getting word to the former Emperor had proven to be no more difficult than conning his way through a hundred courtesans out of their hard earned money. He wasn’ proud of his work, no, but it earned him a decent living. 

Seeing his partner in crime up ahead, he whistled, smiling as he saw Dean Orlfosky whirl his head around in confusion, green eyes brightening as they took in his friend. 

“Sam!” he whispered as they hurried along, smiling happily at the fact that they were about to get very rich.

“A ruble for this painting- it’s Romanov, I swear!” a man implored them, brandishing a portrait of the deceased Tsar Mikhail at them. Sam gave it a cursory glance and knew it was a forgery-  _ why  _ did forgers tend to make the Tsar so  _ unattractive? _

“Count Azazel’s pajamas- comrades, buy the pair!” the person implored. 

Sam understood. These were desperate times, but trying to pass the tattered pajamas off as Azazel’s? It was ridiculous. 

The next hawker was substantially better; the soft fur coat was black and plush, with red crushed velvet interior. It was something very similar to what any of the Romanov boys would’ve worn. It was small, which narrowed it down to Lucifer or to Gabriyel.

“I got this from the palace, it’s lined with real fur!” the seller proclaimed as Sam ran his fingers through it and smiled. It was definitely fox fur, the preferred fur of Lucifer Romanov. Ana always had the worst time getting a coat similar to this off of the second son. He used to hear Lucifer petulantly tell his mother  _ no,  _ he wasn’t taking the coat off, he was cold and it was warm. Or the amount of times Zakhariya would chase his younger brother through the halls in their night clothes, trying to remove the coat from Lucifer’s body. “It could be worth a fortune, if it belonged to him,” Sam hummed, digging into his pockets for the twenty rubles that it would cost for the coat, and the two of them found their way to their rooms. 

“Well, Sammy, I’ve booked us the theatre,” Dean explained as they finished packing up their things to go hide out in the old palace. 

“Great, now all we need is the boy,” Sam grinned. “Think, Dean. No more conning, no more forging. Just three tickets to Paris. One for you, one for me, and one for the Tsarevitch Lucifer!”

Dean laughed as Sam danced around the room.

“It’s the rumor, the legend, the mystery- It’s the Tsarevitch Lucifer who will help us fly!” Sam sang playfully, standing in the window and gesturing to the town square.

“You and I, friend, will go down, in history! We’ll find a boy to play the part, teach him what to say; dress him up, and take him to Paree!” the conman continued to hum as he danced around, slipping on his coat and grabbing his bags. His eyes lit up. 

“Imagine the reward his dear ol’ Grandpapa will pay! Who else could pull it off, but you and me?” he asked. Dean shrugged as if he could answer it. 

“We’ll be rich!” Sam exclaimed.

_ We’ll be rich!” Dean echoed. _

We’ll be OUT!” Sam continued to emphasize as he stepped into the open window, beckoning Dean to follow. 

_ We’ll be OUT!”  _ Dean enthused, stepping next to Sam.  __

“And St. Petersburg will have some more to talk about!” they said together with a laugh before jumping and sliding down the roof as if they were born to do it, almost skiing across the snow covering the material. 

_ “Have you heard, there’s a rumor in St. Petersburg? Have you heard what they’re saying on the street? _ ” 

The city spread out in front of Sam and Dean, every whisper and secret spreading in a larger pattern, a web full of potential that he could almost see dancing in the square before him as each peasant shared with their neighbor.  And he was the spider in the center; it was the perfect plan. He was the puppet master, the one who held the strings. And as long as he got that payoff, he didn’t particularly care.  

This is how he got into this in the first place, after all. The thrill of when people believed him when he spoke, how instantly wanted to help him after seeing round hazel eyes imitating that of a kicked dog that just wanted love and affection. It filled that void, too, when people took pity on him. And even after it was revealed he conned them, they  _ still  _ trusted him. For the most part. 

Between his conning abilities and Dean’s excellent forgeries, there was no way that this plan to bring “Lucifer” to the Emperor would fail. 

“Have you heard there’s a rumor in St. Petersburg?” Someone from out of the city asked, with everyone nodding

“Have you heard, comrades what do you suppose?” a loud man asked his friends where they were sitting in front of the local pub.

“A fascinating mystery,” a university student said, pointing at his book.  

“The biggest con, in history!” Sam murmured to Dean, the forger nodding in agreement as they jumped onto the trolley that’ll bring them close to the palace. 

“The Tsarevitch Lucifer- alive or dead?” Someone asked their friends’ opinion.

“Who knows? Shh!!” One of them shushed him, glancing around for any signs of the police nearby as they rushed off to go get food and drinks for the night. 


	3. Journey to the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka, an orphan boy with no past, makes a life decision with the help of a golden chow chow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sobs because I LOVE THIS SONG IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL*

Luka sighed as he waved good bye to the children he grew up with, barely hearing Comrade Missouri talk to him. 

“I’ve got you a job at the fish factory. Go down this road, and when you reach the fork in the road-” Missouri stopped as she listened to Luka say goodbye to everybody. “Are you even listening to me, you  _ shvibzik? _ ”

Luka groaned and looked right at her. “I am listening, Comrade Missouri.”

“You have been a thorn in my side since the day you arrived,” Missouri growled, tugging him towards the gate by his dark blue scarf. “Acting like the King of England instead of the worthless nobody you are!” 

Luka grumbled as he tugged the scarf off so Missouri wasn’t choking him with it and sighed. 

“You’re such an ungrateful brat, even though for the past ten years, I fed you, I clothed you-”

“You gave me a roof over my head,” Luka sighed, rolling his eyes. 

Missouri paused in unlocking the gate and stared at him. “How is it you don’t know  _ anything  _ about your past, or where you came from, have no clue who you are, and you remember all that??” she asked. 

“I  _ do  _ have a clue!” Luka insisted, brandishing the pendant at him. The silver and blue floral pendant with the words  _ Together in Paris  _ etched into it. 

“Oh, I know,” She simpered. “Together in Paris. So, you want to go to France to find your family, right?” 

Luka nodded with a shrug. “I mean. . . I’d like to know where I belong,” he said. 

“Little Luka, it is time for you to take your lot in life, in line, and be grateful for what you have,” Missouri said, shoving him out the gate and closing it after throwing his scarf into his face. “Together in Paris!” 

Luka sighed, grabbing the scarf off his face and he turned to walk towards the fork in the road.

“Be grateful, Luka,” he mocked under his breath as he approached the sign after a couple of hours walking in the Russian winter cold. Luka was always cold. He was used to it. 

“I am grateful- grateful to get away!” he shouted. “‘Go left’, she says,” he said, staring at the sign. The sign pointing left read  _ Fish Factory.  _ The one pointing right said  _ St. Petersburg.  _ “Well, I know what’s left. A continuance of me being a skinny little nobody with no past. But if I go right. . .” 

He trailed off as he lifted the pendant in his hand again. “Whomever gave me this must have loved me.” 

Warring with doing what he is told and what he wanted to do, he looked up to the sky as he sat down beneath the signs. “Someone give me a sign? God if you’re even there? It could be anything, I’m not picky!”

He sighed as he rested, before feeling for his scarf in his pocket, and not finding it. Hearing a playful growl, he turned and saw a dark golden chow chow puppy with his scarf in his hand. Laughing, he reached his hand out for his scarf. “Come here, little fella,” he cooed. 

The puppy shook his head and ran down a little bit towards the road to St. Petersburg. 

Laughing some more, Luka patted his leg. “Come on, little pup, I’m waiting for a sign.” 

The puppy sat down in the middle of the road with Luka’s scarf and gave him a look of  _ I am the sign you idiot.  _

Luka sighed. “Great. A puppy wants me to. . .” he trailed off as he stood up and walked towards the puppy. Kneeling down, he ran his fingers through the chow’s soft fur and smiled as the puppy dropped his scarf. 

“I’m going to name you Balthazar,” he murmured. 

The puppy gave a happy bark and danced around Luka.

Luka sighed as he stared down the road to St. Petersburg. 

“Heart, don’t fail me now, courage don’t desert me, don’t turn back, now that we’re here,” he murmured, taking a few tentative steps down the road. “People always say life is full of choices, no one ever mentions fear. . . or how the world can seem so vast on this journey to the past.” 

He heard horses and he tucked himself behind a tree, situating his hat more firmly on his head as Balthazar jumped around at his ankle, yipping happily. “Somewhere down this road, I know someone’s waiting, years of dreams just can’t be wrong. Arms will open wide, I’ll be safe and wanted, finally home where I belong.” 

He hugged himself and smiled, thinking about knowing who he was, knowing who his family was. Puffing his chest out, he began walking down determinedly the road. “Well, starting now I’m learning fast on this journey to the past.” 

He walked for about two miles, humming to himself the old tune he’s always had stuck in his head, for as long as he could remember. 

There was a house ahead, and he smiled as the children came out to greet him. Smiling, he ruffled their hair and chatted with their parents while Balthazar accepted many belly rubs from the children. The family gave him some bread and cheese to eat on the road, saying that the city was only about ten more miles away and that he could make it there before dark. Smiling and thanking them, he watched them head off in the opposite direction before sighing to himself.    
“Home, love, family, there was once a time I must’ve had them too. Home, love, family, I will never be complete until I find you.” 

He smiled and ate some of his bread and cheese as he walked. He gave some to Balthazar and would stop whenever the puppy needed to pee. 

“One step at a time, one hope then another. Who knows where this road may go? Back to who I was, on to find my future- things my heart still needs to know! Yes! Let this be a sign! Let this road be mine! Let it lead me to my past. . . and bring me home, at last!” 

He crested the snow covered hill and beamed as he saw the sprawled out city of St. Petersburg beneath him, the sun just starting to disappear behind the Church of the Saviour in the Blood in the distance. Balthazar yipped and barked happily around his ankles. 

_ Let me find out who I am.  _


	4. And a Song Someone Sings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka finds his way to the old palace and meets Sam and Dean.

“Thank you. . .” Sam said, trying to usher the young man attempting to be Lucifer off the stage. Dean was rubbing his temples, trying to ward off the impending headache. “Next, please!” 

A young man with blond hair and a cigarette in his mouth sauntered on the stage in a thick fur coat. Upon getting on the stage, he dropped the coat, revealing a far too skinny form and an eyeroll. 

“Grandpapa, it’s me, Lucifer,” he said in what was an attempt to be a sexy voice, giving a hip pop. 

Dean banged his head against the desk as he let out a very loud, enthusiastic expletive. 

“ _ Bozhe moi, _ ” Sam groaned, burying his head in his hands. 

 

“One way ticket to Paris, please,” Luka requested politely, a warm smile on his face. 

“Do you have your exit visa?” The ticket master drawled. 

“Exit visa?” Luka was confused. 

“No exit visa, no ticket!” The door was shut rudely in his face. 

Luka huffed indignantly, wondering how he was going to get to Paris now. 

An older woman poked at his elbow. “Go see Sam Winchester,” she murmured in a low voice. “He can get you your papers.” 

“Where can I find him?” Luka asked softly, recognizing the need for secrecy. 

“At the old Romanov palace, but you didn’t hear that from me!” she insisted. 

“Okay,  _ spasibo, _ ” Luka smiled, pressing a ruble into her hand before heading off in the direction she had pointed to. 

Luka found the old Imperial palace easy enough, and he quietly crept inside the doors. He was thankful that he was small enough to fit in between the boarded up slats, and he looked around at the once former opulence, now in complete disarray. He couldn’t help but feel awed. The palace had an old feel to it, one that was almost familiar. 

As he called out for someone, he spied a painting over by the stairs leading into the ballroom and he made his way to it. Pictured there was the last royal family of Russia, that much he knew. His eyes rested first on the obvious patriach, a man tall and dark, with black hair and green eyes, resting his hand lightly on the back of a golden chair. Next to him was his wife, Luka assumed, a beautiful woman with flaming red hair and darker green eyes, a soft look on her face. A pale hand rested on the back of the chair as well, and Lucifer’s eyes were drawn down to an older man, sitting on the chair, dark colored hair in curls on his head and kind blue eyes that were smiling. 

Standing to the left of the chair were three older children, the eldest looking to be about seventeen. She was tall and regal looking, with black hair that tumbled in waves down to her shoulders and dark eyes that seemed to never lighten. Next to her stood a young boy, about fifteen, with dark brown hair and in imperial court dress. He had bright blue eyes and looked very protective of his sisters, the second one standing on the other side of him. She was also had dark brown hair, but it was lighter than her sister’s or her brother’s, and blue eyes that were hard, yet kind. She looked to be about twelve years old, and Luka felt a rush of warmth upon seeing her.  

Standing off to the right of the chair was a boy, probably around the age of six, who had dark golden hair that promised to darken with age and honey gold eyes, a mischievous smile on his face. Luka felt like he knew the boy, like he had grown up with him, but he knew that wasn’t possible.

In between the old man’s legs, with the older man’s hands resting on his shoulders, was an older boy, roughly eight,  with light blond hair and bright blue eyes that seemed like they were stolen from the old man’s, except they were more the younger man’s eye shape, and pale pink lips that were curled up into a happy smile, like he had no other place to be. 

“Dancing bears, painted wings,” Luka sighed softly, to a tune he’s known since before the orphanage. Comrade Missouri had told him that the first words he had spoken to her when inquired about where he came from was the melody to this song. His voice was sweet and rich, a low tenor as he looked around. “Things I almost remember. . . and a song, someone sings ‘once upon a December’.”

He descended the stairs into the ballroom, skirting the shattered chandelier. 

“Someone holds me, safe and warm. Horses prance through a silver storm. Figures dancing gracefully across my memory!” 

He began dancing, smiling as the visions of an elegant ball began to form, his simple tunic, trousers and coat being changed into an elegant black suit with a black bow tie and white dress shirt and he spun around, pretending that he was dancing by himself amongst couples. The three siblings from the painting appeared and placed court dress on him. He felt an imperial ring being slipped onto his finger by the eldest sister, where she gave a sardonic smile as she curtsied away from him; a cape of royalty being placed on him by her sister, who playfully kissed his cheek before curtsying to him. Returning the bows, he bowed before the boy, who placed a circlet of olive branches and a maltese cross on the front of it. He bowed before Luka, giving him a warm smile, and Luka bowed back, returning the smile. 

“Someone holds me safe and warm, horses prance through a silver storm. Figures dancing gracefully across my memory!”

Three new figures joined- the man, woman, and older boy from the painting and the woman swept into his arms, and he caught her and began to waltz with her- that’s funny, he doesn’t remember knowing how to waltz, beyond a few lessons that he had taken when he was fifteen from another orphan, a girl with pretty green eyes and dark hair- and he continued singing as she held his gaze with a warm smile. 

“Far away, long ago, growing dim as an ember. . . things my heart used to know. . . Things it yearns to remember. . .” 

The man from the painting, strong and imposing in imperial Russian garb, gently removed the woman from his grasp and looked at him with a look. A look that commanded obedience, but there was a certain kind of warmth in his eyes. 

“And a song, someone sings. . .” He held the man’s gaze as he gave a bow to the woman, who was smiling kindly at him. 

“Once upon a December,” he finished, slowly going down onto one knee as the man- the former Tsar, perhaps, Luka thought- gestured towards him warmly, bowing his head respectfully. 

“Hey!”

Luka gasped, jerking his head up and seeing a tall young man with dark chestnut colored hair looking at him. Beside him stood a man no more than ten years years older than him and a reddish beard. “How’d you get in here?” 

_ Time to go, _ Luka thought, standing up and running towards the painting, Balthazar yipping for him. 

“Hey, hey hey!” the voice called and considering Luka nearly ran into the oil painting in front of him, he might as well stop trying to run. He turned and regarded the man, ice blue eyes locking in on green-brown and a mouth made for kissing. 

Luka blinked.  _ Where did that thought come from? _ He wondered. Sure, he knew he was homosexual- he knew that from the age of fifteen- but he’s always kept it under wraps and was always able to chase skirts with the other boys his age. But this man was  _ not  _ one of those orphan boys. 

The other man stopped and stared. 

“I-I-I was wondering how you got in. . . here. ..” he trailed off the longer he stared at Luka. 

“Excuse me, young man,” the other man was saying, jogging up beside the man staring at Luka. “How did you-” 

“Don’t ask that, Dean,” the younger man shushed, grabbing eyeglasses out of his coat and shoving them onto the older man’s face. “Now, do you see what I see?” 

Dean squinted, then his eyebrows shot up and he nodded. “Yes. . . I see that. . .” 

“What??” Luka was feeling self conscious, especially now that the man not yet introduced was next to him and circling him. “Hey! Why are you eyeing me up like a piece of meat at the butcher’s?” He turned in circles, trying to figure out what this other man was doing. Suddenly, it dawned on him. “Are you Sam?”

“I might be, what’s your name and why are you asking?” the man possibly named Sam asked. 

“I’m Luka, and I’m in need of some travel papers,” Luka admitted. 

“Travel papers?” Sam was obviously intrigued. “And Lula-”

“No, Lu _ ka, _ ” Luka snapped. 

“Luka, I’m sorry,” he said, “Is there a last name that goes with that?” 

“As crazy as this sounds,” Luka said softly, “I. . . I don’t know my last name. I was found wandering St. Petersburg when I was eight years old and. . . could never remember who I was, where I came from, nothing.”

“And. . . You have no clue?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but. . .” Luka shrugged. “I honestly don’t know where I came from or who I am. I just know that I need to get to Paris.”

“Well, Luka, yes, I am Sam. That’s my friend Dean. You see, we’ve got three tickets to Paris, but one of them is for him- the Tsarevitch Lucifer.” He gestured towards the painting, and Luka turned to see him pointing at the small boy with blond hair and blue eyes. 

“Oh,” Luka said, but suddenly two sets of strong hands took his elbows and started leading him up the stairs. 

“We’ve been looking for him to bring back to his family,” Dean explained. “And you might fit the bill. You’ve got such blue eyes-”

“The Romanov eyes,” Sam interrupted.

“Mikhail’s chin,” Dean continued, taking a hand to Luka’s chin and turned it from side to side. 

“Ana’s smile and mouth,” Sam observed. 

Luka brought up his hand to remove Dean’s from his chin, but that was instead taken by the older man.

“Ooohhh, he’s even got the royal grandfather’s, Charles’, hands,” Dean exclaimed, observing his fingers.

“Look, boys,” Luka said, managing to squirm out of their grasp, “there is  _ no way _ that I could be royalty! I’m just. . . an orphan boy!”

“All I know is I’ve seen about a hundred Lucifer’s and  _ none  _ of them look as much like the Tsarevitch as you!” Sam exclaimed, stopping in front of them. 

Balthazar was following them and was jumping up and down around Dean.    
“Ooohhh, look at this cutie!” Dean gasped, leaning down and picking him up. Balthazar was very pleased by this turn of events and began licking Dean’s face.

“Dean,” Sam said, regarding his friend with a raised brow, one that spoke of exasperation. “You’ve said you never liked dogs!” 

Dean gave a shrug. “But look at him, Sam!” 

Balthazar barked happily. 

“Anyways, how do  _ you  _ know that you’re not the Tsarevitch?” Sam challenged. “Do you have any idea who you are, where you came from?” 

Luka shook his head. “I don’t,” he admitted. “But how could I be? Wouldn’t someone-  _ anyone _ \- have come and gotten me before I turned 18 if that was the case?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Sam shrugged. “But how do you know if you don’t try?”

“I mean, I guess that every young boy who’s lonely dreamed of being a prince of some sorts,” Luka shrugged, sighing as he thought. 

“Take a look at it this way, your clue is your family is in Paris, and Lucifer’s only family is in Paris,” Dean said, cuddling the chow puppy close. “You’re the right age, body type, everything. And Lucifer means the morning star, perhaps in naming him his parents wanted him to rise again, like the sun.”

Luka considered it. He  _ really  _ didn’t want to go work at a fish market the rest of his life. He sighed and smiled. “You got yourself a deal!” 

He shook Sam’s hand, almost crushing it, and the other man winced but took it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present, his Royal Highness, the Grand Duke Lucifer, Tsarevitch of all of Russia,” he intoned, bowing. Balthazar yipped happily. 

“Balthazar, we’re going to Paris!” Luka exclaimed.

“The dog stays,” Sam said firmly.

“And I say, the dog goes,” Luka said, retrieving him from Dean’s arms.

Balthazar barked happily and looked at Sam with a pout.

Sam sighed and leaned over to scratch in between Balthazar’s ears. The puppy squirmed happily in Luka’s arms, and he giggled. 

“I guess the dog can come,” he admitted. “Now, let’s go. We’ll need to pick up some more clothes for you and other things before we get on the train.”

Little did Dean, Luka, and Sam know that they were being watched. 


	5. In the Dark of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old evil learns that Lucifer Romanov is still alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yes, you could use the movie version of the song in this, HOWEVER, my inspiration for Dick Roman comes from this cover by Jonathan Young (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmEGOiAfsws)
> 
> Also this is my first time truly writing Crowley

Fergus Crowley was a tailor of some repute, and had worked in the palace prior to the siege on the palace ten years ago. He had aligned himself with the mystic Dick Roman- not out of malice towards the Romanovs, but simply because Dick Roman paid for his services better than the Royal Family. 

He was hiding out in the old Palace for his living quarters, simply because it was close to where his tailoring shop was. Having retired for the night, he was enjoying a nice glass of Craig when he heard talk of the Tsarevitch Lucifer, coming from where he was living, a few doors down. The ballroom, perhaps. 

He slunk out and looked over the balcony, holding his glass in hand as he gazed down at them. The black onyx horn that Dick had sold his soul to laid by his feet, spewing dark red smoke out without him realizing it. 

“I only see one problem with this,” he murmured as he listened to them talk, “Lucifer is dead. Very dead.” 

Smoke wafted past his nose and he looked down at the relic. “That is, as far as I know.” 

He inspected the smoke closer to find tiny little humanoid figures. 

“Bollocks. Ten years in solitude has affected my brain more than I think,” he groaned. Lucifer’s name was mentioned again and more smoke wafted out. 

Somehow, Crowley managed to put two and two together. “If this thing is coming alive after all of these years, then that means that Lucifer is alive. . .” he looked down over the balcony again, watching the skinny blond skip out of the palace with someone who looks like Dean Orlofsky and another man. “And that’s him.” 

_ Oh shit.  _ That means that. . . 

The horn started to move. Smoke curled out and snagged Crowley’s ankle. 

“ _ Bylad! _ ” Crowley shouted as the smoke turned to iron and proceeded to drag him through the floor (albeit very painfully) and through. . . the ground? The earth? 

He’s not sure. 

Then he realized where they were going. 

_ Why are we going to Hell? I’ve been ambiguous. Mostly.  _

_ Wait.  _

_ If the curse didn’t take, then I’m not going to Hell. . . _

This realization came almost a moment too late as he crash landed onto stone. 

_ Limbo.  _

“WHO DARES DISRUPT MY SOLITUDE?!”

Crowley whirled his head around to see a very familiar figure encroaching upon his personal space. 

“LEAVE!” Dick Roman shouted as Crowley started attempting to backstroke away from his former employer. However, one cannot swim on stone, even if it is in Limbo. 

“Wait a minute. . .  _ Crowley? _ ” Dick said, about ready to strangle Crowley but stopping short.

The mystic’s face was now a terrifying sight to behold. Where handsome features once resided was now an ugly mask of black and blood, as if someone took a red hot poker to his face repeatedly. Crowley wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if the damage extended below his shirt collar. He prayed that he doesn’t ever find out.

“Sir? Is that you?” 

“If you call  _ this  _ visage  _ me, _ ” Dick snarled, sweeping away from his tailor to gesture to his living area for the past ten years. 

“I mean, for being dead the past few years, you actually don’t look like Hell,” Crowley said in a deadpan voice. 

“Something’s stirring in me,” Dick groaned, completely ignoring the somewhat backhanded compliment. 

Crowley very briefly thought of a very dead person to stop the rising imagery in his mind. “I don’t wonder why. Apparently your little magic trick didn’t work, as Lucifer Romanov is still alive.” 

“Lucifer Romanov? Alive? That blond haired little  _ brat?! _ ” Dick was furious.

“I suppose selling your soul for the destruction of an entire family isn’t that great of a bargain anymore,” Crowley said dryly. “I think you got the sour end of the deal.  Sir.”

“If only I hadn’t lost the gift from the Dark Forces,” Dick growled.

“What, you mean this cheap thing?” Crowley asked, hefting the horn in his hand. 

“WHERE did you get  _ that? _ ” Dick exclaimed, maniacal delight coming over his eyes. Or, more accurately, eye.

“I retrieved it after your unfortunate escapade on the ice,” Crowley shrugged. 

“Give it to me!”

Crowley briefly contemplated on saying something snarky along the lines of having manners, but decided against it. He handed the onyx horn over. 

Dick snatched it out of hands and caressed it lovingly. “My dear old friend, together again. . . to cause destruction. Let’s finish off this curse, and  _ kill  _ Lucifer Romanov!” 

Lightning crashed and Crowley blinked, confused.  

“In the dark of the night I was tossing and turning, and the nightmare I had was as bad as can be,” Dick explained with a growl, a sinister grin slowly appearing on his face. Crowley sighed and rolled his eyes. “It scared me out of my wits- a corpse falling to bits. Then I opened my eyes and the nightmare was ME!” The way his voice boomed made Crowley jump and stare at his Master with confusion. 

“I was once the most mystical man in all Russia!” Dick  declared and Crowley settled himself in for a pity party. “When the royals betrayed me they made a mistake.”

“Of course they did,” Crowley agreed quietly, internally rolling his eyes. 

“My curse made each of them pay- but one little boy got away! Little Luka, beware, Dick Roman’s awake!!” Dick ’s grin was absolutely demonic and Crowley sighed as his Master’s theatrics started shooting lightning out of his fingertips. 

“In the dark of the night evil will find him, in the dark of the night just before dawn,” the walls seemed to sing and Crowley wondered exactly how 10 years underground affected Dick ’s brain. 

“Revenge will be sweet, when the curse is complete!” Dick  beamed, his sickly eyes sparkling with absolute vengeance. “In the dark of the night- he’ll be gone.” 

Dick gently caressed his relic, the source of his power, as if getting reacquainted with it. Crowley wondered if he should tell Dick to get a room with the spiralling black onyx horn. Deciding that he didn’t want to be turned into a maggot, he kept his mouth shut. 

“I can feel that my powers are slowly returning,” Dick  purred, flexing his fingers as if it to get rid of stiffness. “Tie my sash and a dash of cologne for that smell,” he ordered, finding the belt on his slacks and tightening it a little bit. 

“As the pieces fall into place, I’ll see him crawl into place!”

Crowley mused that his Master needed a lobotomy. 

“ _ Do svidanya,  _ Luka, your Grace! Farewell!” The mystic gave an overly dramatic bow and when he straightened, the mania that had possessed him to sell his soul was back and his eyes flashed in the low candlelight. 

“In the dark of the night terror will strike him-” the walls hummed and Crowley did his best not to shudder. Talking walls are  _ weird. _

“Terror’s the least I can do!” Dick shouted happily. 

“In the dark of the night evil will bloom.”

“Soon he will feel that his nightmares are real,” Dick declared. 

“In the dark of the night-” 

“He’ll be through!” The shout echoed throughout the room. Crowley was getting a headache.

“In the dark of the night evil will find him-”

“FIND HIM!” This time, it seemed like the horn was speaking. Crowley was thankful he could control his bladder.

“In the dark of the night terror comes true-”

“DOOM HIM!” 

This was turning out to be not so good. Crowley was wondering what the absolute fuck went wrong in his life. 

“My dear, it’s a sign, it’s the end of the line!” Dick was now almost singing in delight. Crowley was seriously considering that lobotomy right about now. He could get in contact with the family that he gets his Chinese silk from, he’s certain Madame Tran would do the job cheaply. . .

“In the dark of the night,” the walls chanted as Dick placed the horn into a holder that held it up right. “In the dark of the night. . .”

“COME my minions,” Dick commanded. Dark red smoke started spilling out, the tiny humanoids- demons, Crowley surmised- flying out at an alarming rate. “RISE for your Master! Let your evil shine!”

Crowley watched the near fireworks display of demonic fairies fly out of the horn in a spiral of hatred and evil.

“Find him now, yes, fly ever faster,” Dick chanted, coaxing a couple of stragglers to join their brethren. 

Crowley was now very scared. But also mildly interested in the proceedings. 

“In the dark of the night, in the dark of the night, in the dark of the night-” the walls chorused. 

“He’ll be mine!” Dick shouted as the demons finished flowing out of the horn and onwards to their mission. 

Crowley wondered how ironic it would be to pray for his soul while in Limbo.

Dick turned and looked at Crowley. “Tea?” he offered.


	6. The Flambeed Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Luka, Balthazar, and Dean experienced a flaming train ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is the ONE of the reasons I made Dean Vlad. I needed Dean to shout THERE GOES THE DINING CAR.

 

Sam sighed as he lifted the last of their bags into the overhead and looked at his travelling companions. Dean was sitting over by the door, creating their travel papers. Next to him, Balthazar was sleeping, his head resting on Dean’s briefcase. Every so often, the forger would reach over and run his fingers through the chow’s soft fur. 

Luka was sitting across from Balthazar, slouching in his seat and fiddling with his necklace. 

Seeing that there were no other seats available, Sam sat down next to Luka and looked over at him. “Sit up. Stop playing with that. Remember, you’re a Tsarevitch.” 

Luka harrumphed. “And how do  _ you  _ know what the Tsarevitch does or doesn’t do?” he challenged. 

Sam smirked. “I make it my business to know,” he said.

Luka sighed and looked at Sam. “Samuel,” he said, and  _ no,  _ that didn’t make electricity run up his spine, “Do you think I’m royalty?” 

“You know I do, your Highness,” Sam smiled. 

“ _ Then stop bossing me around. _ ” 

Sam threw his hands up in the air and looked at his friend. Dean had a big grin on his face. 

“He certainly has a mind of his own, Sam,” he remarked, petting Balthazar again. 

“Yeah, and I wanna gag him,” Sam grumbled. 

Luka simply stuck his tongue out at Sam very maturely. 

 

Later, Sam made his way back to the train car. Luka was alone, reading a book and curled up in his coat. Dean and Balthazar had gone for a walk to the dining car. Opening the door, he closed it and sat down across from Luka. 

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he said. 

“I think we got off on the wrong entire leg,” Luka said dryly, turning a page in his book. “But I appreciate your apology.” 

Sam looked at him in confusion. “Apology? What apology? There was no-”

“Samuel, shut your face,” Luka said, looking at him with a hard stare. 

Sam, wisely, kept quiet. 

They sat in awkward silence and then Luka spoke again. “So, are you going to miss it?” 

“What, you want me to talk now?” Sam asked, maybe a bit more harshly than he intended. 

“Answer the question.” 

‘What am I supposed to be missing, your voice?” 

“ _ Russia, _ ” Luka said, looking over his book at Sam like he was the stupidest person around. 

Sam gave the question brief consideration. “No.” 

“But it was your home,” Luka pointed out.

“It was the place I grew up. Nothing more.” 

“Well, what about your family?” 

Sam was utterly confused. “What is your  _ obsession  _ with homes and families?!”

“I don’t know,  _ Samuel,  _ maybe the fact that I never  _ had  _ one?!” Luka snapped, standing up to leave the car. Sam stood up too, blocking his way. He wanted an answer to  _ his  _ question now. 

Luka may act like he’s the King of England, but he fought like he was Oliver Twist over a piece of bread, and Sam grunted as Luka’s elbow drove into his side. 

This was the scene Dean and Balthazar walked back in on. 

“Oh thank  _ God  _ you’re here!” Luka said, stopping his assault on Sam. “ _ Remove  _ him from my sight!” 

“What did you do?” Dean asked in exasperation. 

“Nothing, Dean, I swear!” Sam exclaimed. He was  _ innocent  _ in this whole affair. 

Luka snorted indelicately and left the train car. 

Balthazar barked happily and looked up at Dean, wagging his tail. 

“An unspoken attraction, you say?” Dean asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. 

“ATTRACTION?!” Sam yelped, looking at Dean as though he had gone insane. “To that. . .  _ pompous  _ skinny little  _ brat _ ?!” 

“He only asked a simple question,” Dean said, leaning down to pet Balthazar, much to the puppy’s delight. 

“Ridiculous,” Sam grumbled, leaving the car. 

 

Dean sighed as he walked back to his car after another trip to the dining cars. He paused as he heard a couple of passengers talking. 

“See, the travel papers used to be blue. But now they’re red.” 

_ The travel papers are red.  _ The ones he forged for the three of them were blue. 

He rushed back to the car. Sam was lounging, Balthazar was on the floor sleeping, and Luka was sprawled out, also sleeping. 

“ _ Ne na vizhu eta yobnoe gosudarstvo, _ ” he growled to Sam. “Everything is in  _ red. _ ”

“RED?!” Sam exclaimed, jumping up. 

“Let’s get to the baggage car, before the guards come,” Dean urged. “Wake Luka.” 

Sam began to shake Luka up, using a firm hand on his shoulder. 

Suddenly, Luka’s fist was bigger than normal and Sam felt blood spurt from his nose. “ _ Sukabylad!”  _ Sam shouted, holding his nose. 

“Oh my  _ God,  _ I’m so sorry, I thought-” Luka sounded contrite, then their eyes met. “Oh. It’s just you,” he said dismissively. “Are we moving?” 

“We are,” Dean confirmed. 

“ _ Bozhe moi,  _ I think you broke my nose,” Sam grumbled, picking up his bag. 

“You’re such a baby, you’ll be fine,” Luka scoffed. 

They made their way to the baggage car, and Dean shivered. “It’s  _ freezing  _ in here,” he grumbled. 

“The  _ baggage car? _ ” Luka asked, raising a brow. 

The two con men turned and gave Luka innocent smiles that matched. 

“There’s nothing wrong with our travel papers, right?” 

“Of course not, your Highness,” Sam simpered, taking Luka’s bag from him, “We just don’t want to force you to mingle with all of those  _ commoners. _ ” 

While the trio and pup got set up in the baggage car, the minions of Dick Roman were at play, and they flew to the train. Finding Luka’s sweet Romanov scent, half went to the front of the train, to the engine; while the other half worked on separating the baggage car and the engine from the rest of the train. This was accomplished in short order, and the train separated with a very loud CRACK!

“What happened?” Sam asked in alarm. 

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, BUT THERE GOES THE DINING CAR!” Dean shouted forlornly, Luka standing next to him as they watched the other part of the train start coasting to a stop as they sped along. Balthazar whined. 

Dean hurried to the front of the baggage car and gazed out the window of the door to see if there was something the conductor could do. Instead, he saw fire and smoke. 

“Uh, Sammy? I think someone’s flambéed our engine!” he called. 

Sam stripped off his suit jacket and threw off his tie. Unbuttoning his shirt to the third from the top, he shoved Dean aside and opened the door. “Something’s not right; I’ll go check it out,” he said. He leaped from the baggage car onto the coal car. Hauling himself up, he ran across the coals and jumped into the engine car. “Hello?” he shouted. He jumped as he nearly got burned and hissed at the heat. There was no one inside. 

Deciding to get out before he got truly well burned to a crisp, he jumped out and ran back to the baggage car, just in time to hear Luka exclaim “We’re going  _ way  _ too fast.” 

Jumping down, he explained, “There’s nobody driving this  _ yobny _ train!” 

Dean groaned. 

“We need to separate the baggage car from the engine,” Sam said. 

Balthazar yipped and Luka kneeled down to comfort him. 

Upon hearing the plan, the minions surrounded the metal workings connecting the baggage car to the coal car and melted it with heat. 

Sam jumped between the cars and looked at Dean and Luka. “Gimme something to break it with!” 

“Here!” Dean said, handing him an axe. 

Luka looked around, and heard Balthazar bark and pat a box with a paw. He came over to investigate. He grinned when he read the word  _ dynamite  _ on the box. “Good job, Balthy,” he whispered, kissing the pup’s fur. 

Balthazar barked just as the axe broke in half from Sam’s constant hammering. 

“C’mon, there’s gotta be something better!” he shouted, throwing the useless tool aside. 

Luka ran over, having lit the dynamite with a little bit of flint he had stored on him. “How’s this?” he asked. 

Sam’s eyes lit up. “That works!” he shouted. He grabbed it and placed it next to the now welded conjunction. Leaping, he pushed Luka, Balthazar, and Dean behind some boxes. “Duck!” Then, he posed the question on his mind. “What do they  _ teach  _ you in those orphanages?” 

Before Luka got the chance to give a patented snarky answer, they were thrown backwards from the blast, the sound of metal springing apart and fire eating away at the wood towards the front of the cargo car. 

Detangling themselves, the trio looked at the front of the car, which was on fire. But they were no longer connected to the fiery inferno that was the engine. 

“We need to get off this train!” Sam shouted, going over to open the cargo bay door. Upon opening it, he and Luka looked over the abyss that was the snowy ravine below. 

“After you!” Luka gestured sarcastically. 

“Fine. We gotta find a way to slow down,” Sam said, frowning as he looked around. Dean was attempting to use the individual brakes on the car, but ended up breaking it.  _ Good job, Dean,  _ he thought ironically as he frantically looked for a way to slow down the car. 

“Well, we’ve got plenty of track,” he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll just wait until we coast to a stop!” 

There was a loud roar, and something moved the earth enough that it knocked Dean, Sam, and Luka over, Balthazar giving a high pitched puppy like bark, growling as low as he could. 

The three stood up and stared out the exploded end of the car, seeing that Sam’s words weren’t true. There was now a giant gap between the tracks about thirty to fifty feet away from them. . . and they were heading to it. They’d plunge to their deaths. 

“You were saying?” Luka asked pointedly, as if Sam had jinxed them. 

Sam frowned, then spied a chain with a large hook on it. He ran over and began trying to find the other end of the chain. “DEAN! Give me a hand with this!” he called as he started sliding himself under the train to wrap it around the pipes, not hearing Dean fall over. 

Luka ran over and handed Sam the chain. 

“Not you!” Sam scoffed. 

“Dean’s a bit preoccupied at the moment, take the damn chain,” Luka snapped. 

Sam scowled, but took the chain from Luka and began winding it around the pipes underneath the train, tugging every so often to make sure that his work wouldn’t come undone. 

There was a clanging suddenly and Sam turned, his eyes widening as he saw something metal bang and clash its way down straight to his face. He blindly reached his hand up to grab the traincar floor, but couldn’t reach it. 

Suddenly, a slightly cold hand grabbed him by his wrist as he swore, pulling himself up with Luka’s help as his head nearly avoided being clanged against the flying debris. 

His eyes immediately met Luka’s, seeing bright blue Romanov-esque eyes look at him in concern and a certain kind of fear. His gaze dropped to pale pink lips bitten to the point of being red, and he could feel the body heat from the obviously younger man. 

The sound of trees cracking made them both look behind Sam and watch as trees were destroyed from the flying debris. 

“And to think that could’ve been you,” Luka said as he pulled Sam up into the car of the rest of the way. 

Sam nodded, brushing his hands off on his pants. “If we live through this, remind me to thank you,” he said. 

Luka nodded and took up his place behind the coil of chains. “Come on, let’s get this on the tracks.” 

“Brace yourself,” Sam said, pushing the chain with Luka off of the train. They watched as the hook slid behind one of the wooden slats. 

The force of the train moving began uprooting the track where the hook had caught onto it, and they all were thrown about like rag dolls as the train tilted sideways, giving them a better way to get off the death train. 

“Well, this is our stop,” Luka said, grabbing his carpet bag and standing at the edge of the car. Sam and Dean quickly grabbed their own bags, Dean scooping Balthazar up and cuddling the puppy close. 

Sam was the first to jump, Luka and Dean shortly after him. The three of them screamed and shouted in alarm as they landed in the soft snow beneath them and attempted to avoid trees and harmful bushes. 

They got off just in time, for shortly after they began picking themselves out of the snow, Balthazar shaking out his fur and sending water everywhere, they heard the train careen off the tracks and into the ravine. They turned and saw smoke billowing up from where the train had crashed. 

“I  _ hate  _ trains,” Sam declared, shaking out his coat. “Remind me to  _ never  _ take another train again.” 

 

Dick Roman shouted in frustration, slamming his hand against the stone table in his lair. 

Crowley looked up where he was mending an old shirt of Dick’s and raised a brow. “Trouble, Master?” he asked mildly. 

“He’s alive,” Dick snarled. 

Crowley sighed, shaking out the shirt to observe his handiwork. He picked up his needle and continued working. “The kid’s smart, Master,” he said idly. “He may not have wanted to attend his studies, but he knew what was going on. You know how intelligent Lucifer Romanov is.” 

“Smartest of the bunch, except for maybe Naomi or Gabriyel,” Dick conceded. “So I can’t get him with this. . . But I have a cruel plan in place. . .”

 

“Are we walking to France now?” Luka asked. 

“We’ll take a boat in Germany,” Sam explained. 

“So. . . we’re walking to Germany,” Luka said slowly. 

“No, your Grace, we’re going to take a bus,” Sam smiled. 

“Oh, a bus,” Luka sighed. 

Dean chuckled, Balthazar barking happily. 


	7. Learn to Do It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka begins learning about being a Romanov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed Dean comparing Castiel to a cherry pie. I’m sorry (not really)

“CASTIEL MY LOVE! DEAN-O’S ON HIS WAY!” 

“Who’s Castiel?” Luka asked as they sat on the side of the road for a break at the German-Polish border. 

“Who’s Castiel? He is a  _ tender little morsel _ ,” Dean gushed.

Sam groaned and buried his head in his hands. “ _ Dean! _ ”

“He is a mug of hot chocolate after a long walk in snow,” Dean continued to enthuse. 

“Dean,  _ khvatit, _ ” Sam hissed, trying to get Dean to focus and stop gushing about Castiel, but Dean simply took Sam as a dancing partner as he continued. 

“He is a decadent pastry filled with cherries and sin!” Dean declared as he dipped Sam. The conman gave Luka an exasperated look. 

“Is this a person or a pie?” Luka asked with a laugh.

Dean dropped Sam to the ground, which made him moan in pain. 

“HE IS THE DOWAGER EMPEROR’S FIRST COUSIN!” Dean shouted, scaring birds and Balthazar, unfortunately, who barked in slight reproach.

“But. . .” Luka trailed off. “I thought we were going to see the Emperor. Why are we seeing his cousin?” 

Dean didn’t give an answer, pretending that he was dancing with Castiel. 

“Samuel,” Luka drawled, looking over at Sam. 

Sam gave a sheepish look. “Well, you see, no one gets to the Dowager Emperor without seeing Castiel first.” 

It hit Luka what Sam was saying then. “No, no, no, nobody said that I had to  _ be  _ the Tsarevitch Lucifer!” Luka protested, glaring hard at Sam. “I can’t be a tsarevitch! I’m an orphan boy with no past!” 

“Which is part of the reason why you’re ideal for it,” Sam coaxed. “You’re the right age and body type, you look like the tsar and tsarina more than anybody else I know, and with no past, what’s NOT to say you’re the Grand Duke?” 

Giving a little  _ harumph _ , Luka stormed over to the covered bridge, smiling a little at Dean who handed him a rose and they looked into the water together. 

“Tell me, child, what do you see?” Dean asked, gesturing towards the water. 

“I see a skinny little nobody with no past and no future,” Luka admitted honestly, throwing the rose into the water below them. 

There was silence between them- well, as much silence as a fuming Sam would allow them- before Dean spoke again. 

“I see a passionate young man with enough fire to light up the grand palace back in St. Petersburg and a strong, intelligent man who won’t allow anybody to hurt him the same way he’s been hurt before,” Dean said. 

“Do you really think I could pull it off?” Luka asked softly. 

“I do,” Dean affirmed. “I was once a member of the Imperial Court, and you carry as much fire as Mikhail Romanov did.”

Luka nodded and stared at the water. “What if I’m not, Dean?” he asked. “What if I’m not the Tsarevitch?” 

“Then you know for sure,” Dean shrugged. “And is that such a bad thing to know, if you know where you  _ don’t  _ for sure?” 

Luka remained silent. 

“You came to us because you have an inkling of family in Paris,” Dean pointed out. “We’re willing to help, as much as we can.” 

In the background, they could hear Sam trying to teach Balthazar to sit as a way to calm himself down. 

Luka stared at the water, trying to wrap his mind around everything. He lifted up his necklace again, gazing at the silver pendant.  _ Together in Paris.  _

That decided it for him. He took a deep breath before straightening and turning to look at Dean and Sam. “Gentlemen, start your teaching,” he said confidently. 

“I remember it well,” Dean said excitedly. “You were born in a palace by the sea.”

“A palace by the sea,” Luka repeated in wonder. “Could it be?”

“Yes that’s right,” Dean encouraged, “You rode horseback when you were only three!”

“Horseback riding, me?” Luka laughed.

“And the horse-”

“-he was white!” Sam interjected.

“You made faces and terrorized the cook,” Dean laughed, catching Sam as the younger man explained, “Threw him in the brook!”

“Was I wild?” Luka inquired with a laugh as Dean dropped Sam.

“Wrote the book!” Sam laughed, remembering how mischievous and how much in love with pranks that Lucifer and Gabriyel Romanov were. 

“But you behaved when your father gave that  _ look, _ ” Dean explained, giving a mock stern look that probably was just as fierce as Mikhail Romanov’s was, but Luka couldn’t think of a more terrifying person than Comrade Missouri.

“Imagine how it was-”

“-Your long forgotten past” the friends kept saying, taking him by his elbows and marching him over to the tree trunk spanning across the river. 

“We’ve lots and lots to teach you and the time is going fast!” Sam exclaimed. 

“Alright, I’m ready!” Luka said happily. 

The three of them got onto the trunk and Dean began correcting the posture of Luka’s. 

“NOW- shoulders back and stand up tall,” he instructed.

“And do not walk, but try to float,” Sam added, adding a small branch to the top of Luka’s head. 

Luka began walking across, trying to pretend he was on a cloud, but he felt awkward.

“I feel a little foolish, am I floating?” he queried, struggling to keep his balance.  

“Like a little boat!” Dean assured him, looking over his shoulder and beaming at Luka. Luka beamed back and Sam smiled. He couldn’t do this. He was too clumsy for it.

“You give a bow,” Sam said, giving an over exaggerated one. 

Luka gave one, and Sam and Dean got chills down their spine from the elegant way, a way that cannot be taught, Luka gave his.

“What happens now?” Luka asked, smiling. 

“Your hand receives a kiss,” Dean explained as Sam swiftly picked up Luka’s hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. The two younger men turned and looked at each other before Sam muttered quietly, under his breath “or you kiss her hand.”

“MOST OF ALL REMEMBER THIS-” Dean stressed, his voice booming in the wilderness. “If I can learn to do it,

_ you _ can learn to do it!”

“Something in you knows it,” Sam encouraged, “There’s nothing to it!” He skillfully moved around Luka and met up with Dean, the two of them crossing over to the other side, leaving Luka in the middle of the log.

“Follow in my footsteps, shoe by shoe,” Dean urged, and Luka thought about it.  _ Tall spine. Shoulders back. Float.  _ He continued walking across, tilting his head up in what he thought was a regal way, keeping the stick on his head. 

“You can learn to do it too!” They both cheered as Luka finally hit dirt, Balthazar now barking happily at his heels and Sam removed the stick from Luka’s head. 

“NOW- elbows in and sit up straight,” Dean brought Luka’s shoulders up and tried to make him straighter, their simple meal of stroganoff in his hands. Unconsciously, Luka tucked his elbows in and tried again, a pig sniffing at his feet as they rode in the back of a farm truck. He lifted his spoon of stroganoff and slurped it off, like he used to do back in the orphanage. 

“And never slurp the stroganoff!” Sam admonished, stealing away Luka’s stroganoff.  

Luka hated stroganoff- he only ate it because it was either that or starve oftentimes. But now. . . “I never cared for stroganoff!” he declared, almost throwing his spoon out of the truck. 

“He said that like a Romanov!” Dean laughed heartily. 

“The Samovar!” Sam said, holding up a bottle of very cheap vodka. Samovar was a tea urn, but used by mainly the upper class, so they decided that vodka would have to do.

“The caviar!” Dean shouted, brandishing the can of stroganoff.

“Dessert and then good night?” Luka asked hopefully. 

“NOT UNTIL YOU GET THIS RIGHT!” Dean shouted and Luka groaned. He wanted dessert- a pie Dean filched a half mile back. Balthazar whined, and Luka snagged his cup of stroganoff back from Sam and set it down for Balthazar to enjoy, which the puppy did- as did the pig.

“If I can learn to do it,” Dean said as they went for a horseback ride, Dean behind Luka and Sam. Sam kept shifting in his seat, uncomfortable and unsure how anyone could ride in this comfortably, such as Dean. Luka was doing better. He shifted, but not as often or in the same way that Sam was. The horse Sam was on wasn’t too fond of the conman, anyways, and was trying to find ways to buck his rider. Luka’s horse seemed to adore him, and Luka was almost constantly talking to the horse. “You can learn to do it.” 

“Down, horse!” Sam snapped, as it bucked again and Sam struggled to stay in the saddle. 

Luka giggled and pulled his horse alongside Sam, running his fingers through the mane of the horse, smiling. The horse leaned into Luka’s hand and gave an approving whinny. 

Sam glared at Luka and Luka, maturely, stuck out his tongue. Patting the horse on the neck, he began trotting away. 

“Pull yourself together- and you’ll pull through it!” Dean encouraged as he cantered up to Sam, who was now trying to keep his horse from going after the blond. “C’mon, Sammy, it’s just a horse!” 

Sam threw Dean a glare, very similar to the one he had shown Luka, Balthazar sleeping contently in a saddle bag on Dean’s horse. “It’s not exactly-  _ down, you dumb animal _ \- easy.” 

“That’s why you tell yourself it’s easy- and it’s true!” Dean said. 

They looked ahead to see Luka almost galloping ahead of them, a fence in his path. 

Luka took a deep breath and encouraged his horse towards the fence. “C’mon, you can jump over it,” he said soothingly. “You got this.” 

Sam tried to rein his horse in, horrified at the scene. He went to call out to Luka to stop, that he was going to fall, he was going to get thrown off. . . 

The horse jumped over the fence neatly and landed, Luka laughing in delight, wincing from the way that he was jostled in the saddle. He pulled his horse to a stop and beamed at Dean and Sam. 

Dean grinned and did the jump himself, laughing in delight. 

Sam took a deep breath and built up speed on his horse. Hell, if Luka could complete it, he could too, right? 

Wrong. 

The horse got spooked at the sight of the fence and stopped, bucking Sam off completely. Sam flew over the fence. . . and landed in the mud on the other side of the fence. 

He heard hooves coming closer to him and he looked up to see Luka peering down at him, a small smirk on his face. He leaned over in his seat and held his hand out. “C’mon, you can ride with me,” Luka said kindly. 

Sam scowled, but took Luka’s hand and pulled himself up behind him on the horse once he was up. 

“You can learn to do it too!” Luka said, and Sam nearly punched him. But his body hurt too much for that. 

“Where did you learn to be so good to horses, anyways?” he asked as they moved along. 

“I was always in the stables at the orphanage,” Luka explained. “It’s where I hid out when I was in trouble. They’re easy creatures to get along with.” He patted his horse on the neck and Sam couldn’t help but smile. 

Luka wrinkled his nose delicately. “I think there was horse shit in that mud,” he commented. 

Dean nodded. 

“ _ Sukabylad, _ ” Sam grumbled. 

“Language,” Dean admonished. “You can’t swear in front of the Tsarevitch.” 

Sam glared at Dean and told him, in explicit detail, exactly what he thought of that, Luka giggling. 

“NEXT- we memorize the names of the royalty!” Dean said, brandishing a book and a scroll in the back of the car that the three of them were riding in. Balthazar was curled up in the seat next to the driver.

Sam was lounging on the back of the car, but now he was sliding into the seat next to Luka as the book and scroll was handed to Luka.

“Now we have Abaddon,” Dean began, pointing to a portrait of a beautiful red headed woman who had her arms regally crossed. 

Sam jumped in. “Shot Metatron-” he said, pretending he was firing a gun.

“-in the arm,” Dean finished. 

Luka nodded and whispered “Oh,” before returning to the book. 

“And dear old auntie Hannah loved her vodka,” Dean continued, pointing to a dark haired woman with a bottle of vodka in her hand.

“Got it, Luka?” Sam asked, calmly plucking the book out of Luka’s hand and throwing it to their stuff in the back.

“NO!!” Luka panicked, not wanting the books to be taken away so soon.

“The Baron Samandriel-

“He was-” Luka scrunched his face up, trying to remember who this person was.

“-Short!” Sam finished.

“Count Alastair-

“Had a-” Oh what did Count Alastair  _ have? _

“-wart!” Sam finished, and Luka wanted to smack himself in the face.

“Count Inias-

“Wore a feathered hat!” Sam announced before Luka could even respond.

“I hear he’s gotten very fat,” Dean confided with a sort of self satisfied smile.

“And I recall his yellow cat!” Luka announced, jumping out of the seat. Balthazar leaped over the front seat and into the back, pawing at Luka’s trouser leg. Luka leaned down to pick up the whining puppy to soothe him and assure him that there were no cats while Sam and Dean sat there in stunned silence.

“I don’t believe we told him that,” Dean whispered softly. The horn of the car sounded, indicating all passengers off.

“If you can learn to do it, I can learn to do it,” Luka said firmly as they biked along in the German countryside, his tracks a little wobbly but he was getting the hang of it. In front of him, Sam was being a show off and was doing much better at biking than he was at horses. Dean rode beside him, with Balthazar in a basket in front of him. 

“Don’t know how you knew it,” Dean said, leaning over as he cycled to gently lift Luka’s chin up, reminding him of his posture. Luka’s back straightened and he lifted his chin. Miraculously, his biking became smoother, quicker even, and he flashed a brilliant smile at Dean.

“I simply knew it!” he exclaimed, a warm feeling washing over him. “Suddenly I feel like someone new.”

“Luka, you’re a dream come true!” Sam announced, looking over his shoulder and smiling. 

“If I can learn to do it, you can learn to do it!” Luka cheered as they neared the boat that would take them to France, the trio on the top decker of the bus heading towards port. Balthazar growled happily, squirming in Luka’s arms. 

Sam breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the liner and looked at Luka’s face, staring out at the ocean and the ship and felt his heart swell with pride. Luka had learned a lot in the little time that they’ve had, and he knew that it was a lot to take in. 

“Pull yourself together- and you’ll pull through it!” Dean said encouragingly as they pulled up to a stop and they disembarked the bus, Balthazar nearly tripping down the stairs. Giggling, the trio reached the bottom of the stairs and Luka linked his arms with Dean and Sam, heading towards the dock. 

“Tell yourself it’s easy- and it’s true!” Sam said. As if on cue, upon reaching the gangway, they let go of Luka’s arms and started heading up themselves, making sure that they had the luggage. About halfway up, they looked back expectedly. 

“You can learn to do it, nothing to it,” Luka said as his back straightened and he began walking towards and up the gangplank like he was royalty, Balthazar trotting along behind Luka proudly. 

Dean and Sam were sharing beaming smiles as they accepted Luka once more, Sam guiding him up the rest of the gangplank with a hand on the small of his back, Dean and Balthazar following behind. 

“You can learn to do it too!” Luka finished, looking up at Sam, who just grinned and patted Luka’s back. 

Balthazar gave a deep bark, walking happily and going to go find a place on the deck to take a nap while his humans went to go set up their cabin.  


	8. Waltzing and the Romanov Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is dancing and nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One occasion that Ry helped me make a complete mockery of this film and history.   
> Me: Ry, prevent me from making Sam shirtless for the waltzing scene.   
> Ry: No. I’m too sleepy to. Do it.   
> Me: That means I have to rewrite this entire scene.   
> Ry: Do it.   
> Me: You’re a horrible influence. 
> 
> Also, you never realize how creepy Christopher Lloyd made Rasputin until you start writing the dialogue.

“Here, I bought you a suit,” Sam said proudly, handing the clothes over to Luka. 

“You bought me a. . . thing,” Luka said, examining the pieces of the suit. Unconsciously, he checked the pockets for coin.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked curiously. 

“Nothing!” Luka jumped, glaring hard at Sam. 

Balthazar yipped inside their room. 

“Just put it on,” Sam said, heading up the stairs to the deck. 

Luka stuck his tongue out at Sam’s retreating back before heading into the room to change.

He slipped on the dark blue trousers and the black belt that Sam had chosen, cinching it easily before sliding on the cream colored dress shirt. He fumbled with the small buttons but managed to button it easily enough before sliding on the dark blue suit jacket. Buttoning the first button, he observed himself in the mirror in their quarters before picking up the ice blue bow tie. His fingers fought with the small scrap of fabric, even as he observed himself in the mirror. Giving up, he let it hang around his neck after he slipped on his shoes before heading above deck, spying Dean and Sam playing chess. 

“Checkmate, my good friend,” Dean murmured.

“How does one tie this??” Luka asked, brandishing the offending bowtie. 

Both men looked at him. Dean grinned. “Radiant! Marvelous!”

“Oh, um, here,” Sam said, getting out of his chair and crossing over to help him, fingers deftly moving the tie around and making sure that it was even. Luka’s breath caught in his throat as his fingers lingered for fractions of seconds longer than was probably appropriate. Luka felt that was alright though, as he was busy staring at the mass of skin and muscle that covered Sam’s body, as he realized that the conman was shirtless. Luka understood- it  _ was  _ hot out here at sea, and he certainly wasn’t going to complain. 

“Thank you,” Luka murmured softly. 

“You’re welcome,” Sam said just as softly. His mouth had gone dry. He knew that Lucifer would look regal and commanding in the suit he had chosen, and he bought the bowtie with icy eyes in mind, but  _ hell, _ even he couldn’t deny that Luka could probably bed any woman he desired, Romanov or no.

“And now, Luka, you’re ready for a ball, and you shall learn to dance at one as well,” Dean said. “Sam, you’re gonna be the damsel for this.”

Sam groaned but took up the position. Luka’s hands felt warm on his tanned and bare skin, and fire spread out in equal measure. He was sure he was blushing as Luka firmly cupped his waist. 

“Do you know how to waltz?” Sam asked softly. 

“Vaguely, an older girl taught me at the orphanage,” Luka admitted. 

“ _ One _ two three, and  _ one _ two three,” Dean dictated and Sam stepped on Luka’s foot. 

“Sorry, I’m not very good and not used to being the girl,” he admitted. 

“It’s fine,” Luka murmured, doing a little lip bite. 

“Sammy-”

“It’s  _ Sam. _ Or Samuel.” Sam glared at his friend. 

“You’re not allowing him to lead.” 

Sam grimaced and relinquished control as Dean dictated the beat once again. 

They fell into the steps easily now, and as Luka proceeded to lead Sam into a turn, he felt his heart take flight. 

“That-that suit looks really good on you,” he stammered, trying to pay him a compliment. 

“Does it?” Luka asked softly as they came together to do the next few steps.

“ _ Da,  _ it does. I mean, it looked great on the hanger after the alterations but you-you look good in it,” Sam said, stumbling over his words. “You should wear it.” 

Luka spun him out and gestured with his free hand. “I  _ am  _ wearing it.” 

“Right.” Sam flushed maroon. “I-I-I was j-just trying to pay a. . . a. . .”

“Compliment?” Luka supplied as he spun him back in and rested his hand on the curve of Sam’s waist, nails biting in slightly on his skin. 

“Yeah. . . that,” Sam said with a smile. 

Over on the bench, Dean cleaned off his glasses and looked at Balthazar, who was watching Sam and Luka dance.

“It’s one two three, and suddenly, I see it at a glance,” Dean sighed, watching his friend and the person they were passing off as Lucifer Romanov dance. There was such elegance in Luka’s movements, it was hard to believe that he  _ may not be  _ the long lost Romanov prince.

“He’s radiant, and confident, and born to take this chance,” he told Balthazar. The puppy whined in agreement, watching as Sam twirled underneath Luka’s guided hand. Having been in love more times than the man could care to say, Dean could very well see the amount of affection between the two of them. He sighed softly. “I taught him well, I planned it all, I just forgot. . . Romance.”

Balthazar gave a soft yip and climbed onto Dean’s lap. Dean picked up the small puppy as he observed them dancing. Sam looked like he belonged in Luka’s arms,  _ on  _ his arm, and quite possibly in his bed, warming it. 

“Dean. . . How could you do this?” he berated himself, looking at Balthazar, as if the dog had any answers to their current predicament. “How do we get through this? I should’ve never let them. . . dance.”

Balthazar curled up in Dean’s arms with a bark. 

“I’m feeling a little. . . dizzy,” Luka whispered softly. He didn’t want to break the spell, didn’t want to stop staring into hazel colored eyes, didn’t want to remove his hands from Sam’s body, but things were swimming just behind his vision.

Sam started to slow down the dance. “Me too,” he confessed softly, casting his eyes down to Luka’s pale lips before flicking them back up to his icy gaze, so warm and vulnerable.  _ God  _ he wanted to kiss him. “Maybe we should stop,” he said stopping the dance entirely and dropping Luka’s hand, but he left his left hand on his shoulder.

“We  _ have  _ stopped,” Luka told him, almost tugging him closer by his hip.

“Right.” Sam shook his head, bringing his gaze right back to Luka’s. He couldn’t help leaning in. “Luka. . . I. . .”

“Yes?” Luka whispered, leaning into his space. 

They were going to kiss. Sam was certain of it. . .

Balthazar barked loudly. 

Sam moved away, out of the spell, and he felt bad at the look of hurt that twinged across Luka’s face. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re doing a good job, at this. You’ll be fine.” Giving a stiff bow, he left a shocked Luka and a stunned Dean in his wake. 

 

Luka sighed as he sat next to Dean, the two of them quietly chatting about the different members of the royal family, with Dean quizzing Luka. Sam slept quietly in an enclosed space of their bags, snoring softly. 

“Look at him, he can sleep anywhere,” Dean scoffed in jealousy. 

Luka chuckled and smiled as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

Balthazar was sniffing around in Sam’s bag before finding something silver and blue. He grabbed it in his mouth and brought it over to Luka. Luka frowned and removed it from his mouth, observing it. 

“Pretty jewelry box, isn’t it?” Dean murmured sleepily. 

“Jewelry box? No, I don’t think that’s it,” Luka said slowly, observing the circular object. He felt a familiarity with this thing, whatever it was. 

“Well, what else could it be?” Dean asked in confusion. 

“I’m not sure. . . it has something to do with a secret. . .” Luka murmured, the song that was the only thing he’s known all his life playing softly in his mind. He let out a soft squeal as Balthazar cold tongue met his foot. 

Setting it back into Sam’s bag, he looked up at Dean as the older man climbed into his bed. “Do you think that could be it?” 

“Anything’s possible, Luka. I mean, you did teach Sammy how to waltz,” Dean grinned. 

The two laughed and Luka climbed into the lower bunk, Balthazar jumping in beside him towards the wall. 

Dean settled in with a grunt and soon his snores joined Sam’s. Shaking his head, Luka turned over and kissed Balthazar’s head. “Sleep well, Balthy.” 

 

“Look, there he is, safe and snug with a fuzzball for his bedtime companion,” Crowley drawled absently, darning a pair of socks for himself. Dark maroon smoke held up a kind of mirror, showing the sleeping man. 

“Sweet dreams, my Prince,” Dick cooed. Crowley thought that may’ve been the creepiest thing he’s ever said. “I’ll get inside your mind, where you can’t escape me.” No, that was.

 

Maroon smoke filtered into the cabin where Dean, Sam, and Luka slept peacefully, seeking out their prey. Finding Sam, it curled back in on itself and found Luka on the bottom bunk. It found an opening when Luka stretched and yawned deeply. 

 

_ Luka was in a field, wearing an ice blue pair of swimming shorts and an ice blue and white striped shirt. He looked over and saw a golden haired boy with a mischievous smile and a sweet in his mouth. He, too, was wearing a swim outfit, except while Luka’s was in ice blue his was a pale honey yellow. He couldn’t have been more than a couple years younger than Luka. “C’mon!” the boy encouraged.  _

_ Luka sighed and got up from his lounging position, where he was catching the sun’s rays and followed the boy.  _

In reality, though, he was getting up out of bed. Bypassing his boots, he walked out of the room- with a door opened by the smoke, not that he could see that- and began walking up the stairs. 

Balthazar woke up at the loss of a heat source and sleeping companion. Seeing Luka leave the cabin, he knew immediately something was wrong and bounded out of the bed and began barking in a deep, rough sort of way to try to get Sam up. Sam was the man to get up, not Dean. . .

 

_ Luka made his way up the hill, the younger boy more nimble than he was, and the boy encouraged him to keep following him. Finally back on level ground, the two began skipping and giggling, the younger boy chasing a butterfly until they met up with three more people, a boy older than Luka- a man, his brain helpfully supplied- and two girls older than him as well, standing on the edge of a cliff. The man was wearing an identical swimsuit to Luka’s and the younger boys, except his was in deep, royal purple. The girls wore swim dresses, with one wearing a black with white trim and the other wearing a periwinkle blue. The three gestured for them to come to the edge for the jumped off. _

_ The younger boy and Luka made their way to the edge and peered over, seeing the three joining a regal looking man wearing dark blue and white swimsuit. The two girls were giggling and the man in purple swimming lazily around them.  _

_ “Hello!” the regal man called up to them in a dark, rich voice.  _

_ “Hello!” Luka called down. _

_ “Jump in! The water’s warm!” he bade.  _

_ The younger boy giggled and jumped in, splashing the four below them. Luka giggled.  _

Luka teetered precariously on the edge of the ship, his hands flying to his mouth in his sleep.

Balthazar growled and ran at the top of Sam’s head, headbutting him dead in the center of his mop of curls. The dog was going to get this human up if it was the last thing he did. 

“What?!” Sam finally snapped awake, his vision blurry until it rested on a barking Balthazar. “Balthazar, what is it?” 

Balthazar gave a very deep growl. 

“Luka?” Sam was confused until he looked over at Luka’s empty bed. “LUKA!” 

He ran out of the room into the storm, Balthazar barking. 

 

_ “Yes. . . JUMP! The Romanov CURSE!” The regal man was now a demon and Luka screamed as he grew to be tall, taller than the tallest trees out of the orphanage and leaned to grab Luka, as if to pull him over the cliff edge- wait, that’s not a cliff, he’s in HELL! _

Sam came up behind Luka and picked him up and cradled him close, trying to wake the screaming man up. 

Finally, hating himself for doing so, Sam slapped Luka across the face. 

Luka woke up.

“Hey, hey, you’re right here, it’s okay-” Sam started to soothe.

“The Romanov Curse!” Luka gasped. 

“The. . .  _ what _ ?” Sam asked. “What are you talking about?” 

Ice blue eyes filled with tears and Luka buried his head into Sam’s shoulder. “I keep seeing faces, so many faces,” he whispered, tears hitting the other man’s grey nightshirt. 

Sam wrapped his arms comfortingly around the crying man. “It was a nightmare, nothing more,” he murmured. “C’mon, you’re shivering, let’s get you back into the cabin.” 

Luka nodded dumbly into Sam’s shirt as the other man lead him back to their cabin. 

 

The echoing scream throughout Limbo could’ve put an opera singer to shame. 

“Stress is a killer, Master,” Crowley said idly, wincing as he watched the scene play out. “My son Gavin died of a disease of the heart at a very young age. And he kept a very healthy life- beyond, that is, being a lawyer.”

Dick growled. 

Crowley set down his needle and thread and walked over to the relic, picking it up. “I guess these things aren’t worth the souls anymore,” he shrugged. He went to drop it, hopefully to shatter it.

Dick moved faster than he thought possible, and soon the relic was around his throat, choking him with it. 

“This cost me my  _ soul _ , Mr. Crowley. And to think you almost  _ broke  _ it.” He cut off Crowley’s airways briefly before releasing the tailor and shoving him to the ground. 

“Oh yes, sure,” Crowley muttered, picking himself up off the floor, “blame the tailor, we’re a bunch of easy targets.” 

“ _ WHAT  _ are you muttering about?” Dick snarled. 

“Lucifer Romanov, Master, just wishing I could kill him for you, since you seem to be having difficulties,” Crowley said with what he hoped was a convincing look. 

“I am just going to do it myself, Mr. Crowley,” Dick smirked. 

Crowley gaped at him. “But Master-  _ you’re dead. _ ”

“I am very well aware of this factoid, Mr. Crowley. But you know. . . if you want something done right, do it yourself.” 

“Still doesn’t tell me how we’re getting to Paris. Especially with the whole  _ you’re dead  _ factor,” Crowley said. 

“I thought we’d take the train!” Dick laughed. 

Crowley sighed, before yelping as dark maroon smoke took them out of Limbo and to wherever they were going- and to wherever the Hell Dick had in mind. 


	9. Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Sam, and Luka meet Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS is another reason I made Dean Vlad. I needed him to wax poetic on Castiel.

Dean was the one who knocked on the door, beaming proudly and gently running a comb through his hair as he looked in the mirror. Sam closed his eyes, but Luka found it amusing. 

The door opened to reveal a young woman, a maid, and she curtsied, batting her long lashes. “ _ Bonjour, monsieur- _ ”

She was cut off by a tall man with dark black hair and cunning blue eyes place a firm hand on her shoulder and brought her out of the way. 

Dean’s face broke into a boisterous grin. “CASTIEL!  _ Moy lyubimy, radost’ moya, ti takayoi obayatel’ny. Ty vsgeda v moikh mechtahh. Moy miliy angel!”  _

Castiel huffed a laugh and gave a small smile to the enthusiastic man in front of him, both of them ignoring the pouting maid. “ _ Privet,  _ Dean Dzhonatan Mikhailevich Orlofsky,” he said, his voice rich and deep. “You are looking well.”

Dean smiled, taking Castiel’s hand and raising it to his lips in a chaste kiss. “As are you. You look  _ amazing,  _ Cas,” he murmured. 

“Back to your usual courting habits, I see,” Castiel mentioned, not even bothering to hide his amusement. 

“ _ Tseluyu, moy angel, _ ” Dean threatened playfully. 

“Are they always like this?” Luka asked Sam softly, leaning in to whisper into his ear as Castiel bade them to come in. 

Sam nodded, smiling. “Ever since the days of the Imperial Court, rumor has it,” he murmured back. 

“MAY I PRESENT,” Dean boomed as they entered the sitting room, “HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE TSAREVITCH AND GRAND DUKE LUCIFER MIKHAILEVICH ROMANOV!”

Luka stepped forward and gave a warm smile and shook Castiel’s hand. 

Castiel gave an appreciative nod as he shook Luka’s hand back. “Well he certainly looks like Lucifer. . . but so did so many of the others. Now. . . Where were you born?” he asked, gesturing for them to sit down. 

Luka sat down across from Castiel as Dean sat down next to his paramour. “At the Peterhoff Palace.”

“And how do you take your tea?” Castiel asked, mixing a cup of tea and handing it to Dean. 

“I don’t like tea. Just hot water and lemon,” Luka said. This one was easy for him to remember- he too preferred hot water and lemon over actual tea. Coffee was even better.

“Who were your brothers and sisters?” Castiel handed him a cup of hot water and lemon, and Luka sipped it, smiling happily. It tasted so good.

Luka smiled. “Amara was the oldest, then came Zakhariya,” he started off, “After Zakhariya came Naomi. I’m after Naomi and then Gabriyel.” The names flowed off his tongue easily. 

The questions went on for hours, and included things such as to what side does Lucifer Romanov dress to for his royal attire and suits, to which of his siblings he was the closest to.

“Now, I have one last question,” Castiel said, fixing another cup of hot water and lemon and passing it to Luka, “and it may seem a bit peculiar, but indulge me. How did you escape the siege upon the palace?”

Sam and Dean exchanged grimaces. They never expected this question. And why would they? It’s not a question typically asked. 

Luka, however, looked at a spot on the wall, a faraway look in his eyes. 

“There was a boy. . . a servant boy,” he said slowly, playing with the pendant on his neck as he remembered. It was something he had just started remembering about two days ago. “He showed me a door in the wall, told me he’d hold off the soldiers. . . I remember running, running after someone, or something, maybe even both. It was winter, and oh so cold. There was a hand in mine. . . and then there wasn’t.” He gave a little laugh and shook his head. “But like there’s opening walls in real life!”

Dean looked at Castiel with an expectant look. “Well, is he a Romanov?”

“Well,” Castiel said, smiling at Luka, “he answered every question. But I’m afraid that the Emperor won’t see anymore.” 

Dean frowned. “Cas,  _ moy angel, _ I’m sure you can work something out,” he said. 

Castiel gave an amused look to Dean. “You really think he is Lucifer Romanov?” he asked. 

“I do, Cas,” Dean said. “I truly, honestly do. And I know my tender little morsel can figure something out.”

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t serve you,” he murmured. 

Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “I know, love.”

“Do you like the Russian ballet?” Castiel asked Luka, who smiled and nodded. “They’re performing tonight. His Majesty and I  _ love  _ the Russian ballet. . . And we never miss it.” He threw a sly wink at Dean.

 

“WE DID IT!” Dean shouted into the garden, running over and hugging Sam happily. “We’re going to get the  _ ten million rubles! _ ”

“Yeah, I know, because-” 

“Luka was  _ resplendent! Confident! Radiant! _ ” Dean continued to enthuse. 

“That’s because he’s the Tsarevitch,” Sam said quietly, but Dean didn’t hear him. 

_ “I  _ even believed him!” 

Luka ran out into the garden at that moment, running towards them with the largest smile Sam’s ever seen on his face. 

“Castiel’s going to take us shopping for the ballet!” he exclaimed in excitement. “Shopping in  _ Paris, _ can you believe it?!” 

Sam smiled and hugged Luka, the joy too infectious for him not to. 

_ I found the Tsarevitch. I’m getting ten million rubles. Luka found his family. _

_ So why do I feel like crying? Shouldn’t I be happy? _


	10. Paris Holds the Key to Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out on the town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *me planning* So basically I need Misha.   
> Everyone else: No, you need freakin’ Jimmy Novak.   
> Me: FUCK
> 
> I also called Misha an “animal sacrifice” in this Also known as the “We need to throw Misha in as some sort of animal sacrifice” chapter
> 
> Also known as the “how do we get anything done” chapter, involving Castiel “I am a can-can of the lord” Novak. Ry is a horrible influence.
> 
> Also known as “Google Can-Can music” because I tried to write the sounds. . .
> 
> Yes, I realize Castiel is a bit OOC, but I had to channel his inner Misha

Sam was the first one out of the Chanel shop, dressed in a pure white suit with a soft cream colored shirt and a dark green tie. He patted the tie down, feeling a bit uncomfortable. This was paid for, and tailored  _ for  _ him. Not to mention this may’ve been the nicest suit he’s ever owned. 

Dean was out next, wearing a simple slate grey suit with a dark blue tie instead of his usual bright green. He winked and gave Sam a thumbs up while they waited for Luka and Castiel. He looked at home in it, and Sam grimaced. 

Luka was third, and Sam felt his breath hitch in his throat when he saw him wearing a dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt and a robin egg’s blue tie that matched his eyes perfectly. The grin that came with it made his heart go dangerously fast as Luka almost skipped over to Sam, almost showing off like a horse in competition. “Well?” he asked breathlessly. 

Sam smiled and gave him a thumbs up. “You look really good, Luka,” he said. 

The pink that dashed across Luka’s cheeks made Sam grin, before he found himself with an armful of Luka. Laughing quietly, despite the pain in his heart, he hugged Luka close. Luka seemed to want to touch him a lot, and he wondered if it’s because of a genuine attraction, or if it’s because Luka has been touch starved as an orphan for the past ten years. Not saying Sam wasn’t touch starved himself, but once Dean took him under his wing, he had more touch that was gentle than not. 

Dean gave a wolf whistle. “Lovers!” he teased, and Sam shot him a glare that Luka didn’t see. 

Castiel came out just then, wearing a brightly and obnoxiously colored yellow suit, an ivory waistcoat, and a black tie. Dean slammed his hand into his face with an amused look, as if to say  _ this is the man I chose to love.  _

Castiel giggled and discretely kissed Dean’s hand, jumping as Dean gave a gentle smack to his rear. Murmuring something along the lines of ‘later’, he looked over at Sam and Luka hugging. Apparently operating along the same wavelength as Dean, Castiel purred, “Ooh la la!”

“Seriously?” Sam groaned softly as Luka made to move out of Sam’s hold. He laughed at Castiel, who gave him a wink as he bought four roses from a lady standing near the shop and handing her a couple of francs. 

“Welcome, my friends, to Paree,” Castiel purred, handing everyone roses. Well, he handed two roses to Luka, who was beaming brighter than any star shining in the sky, and slipped a third into the lapel of Dean’s suit jacket. “Here, have a flower on me,” he continued, making sure it was nice and neat in Dean’s lapel. “Forget where you’re from- You’re in France! Children, come!” He beckoned Luka to him, but Luka was intent on sliding the rose into Sam’s suit jacket. Finished, he took Castiel’s arm. 

“I’ll show you that French  _ joie de vivre, _ ” Castiel continued to enthusiastically say, hip bumping first Dean, then Luka. “Paris holds the key to your heart!”

Luka grabbed ahold of Sam’s arm and jerked him along as Castiel began moving at a quick pace. “And all of Paree plays a part.”

The quartet separated into twos, Dean and Castiel with their arms linked together, and Sam and Luka with Luka’s hand grasping Sam’s bicep.

“Just stroll two by two, down what we call _ la rue _ ,” Castiel continued to hum, turning around and beckoning them to move quicker, noticing them lagging behind. When he saw Luka was stopping and observing almost  _ everything,  _ though, he gave an indulgent smile and went to go rescue Luka from where he was standing, looking across the river at Notre Dame. “And soon all of Paree will be singing to you!” he laughed, tugging Luka along. The blush that splashed across Luka’s cheeks was endearing, and Sam shook his head, regaining Luka’s arm. 

There was a loud honking, and the quartet turned to find a car trying to make its way down the street. Sam, Luka, and Dean managed to get off the road quickly, but Castiel was nearly run over by the cream colored car.

“Oohlalaoohlalaoohlala!” Castiel exclaimed, fanning himself like an overexcited woman, dark red splashing across his skin. 

“ _ Moy angel, _ ” Dean chuckled, walking over and wrapping his arms around his lover. 

Luka giggled and held onto Sam’s arm, and Sam gave up trying to feel down- between Luka and Castiel, it was hard to keep being melancholy. 

Luka got distracted, yet again. He couldn’t help it. They were crossing over the River Seine, and he got distracted by the way the streetlamps shone on the river, his eyes lighting up in childish delight. 

Sam stopped and leaned against the stone, watching him. He looked around to see Dean and Castiel far ahead of them, but he couldn’t bring himself to join them. Nor could he bring himself to snag Luka, who was now sitting on the bridge and looking out, the orange glow highlighting his hair and giving him a sort of hazy halo. 

_ I can’t just hold him on my arm,  _ he sighed,  _ he’s the Tsarevitch, I’m just a kitchen boy. I can’t hang on him. Best leave him be for a little bit, we’ve got a little bit before the ballet. _

Suddenly, strong hands were pushing him  _ towards  _ Luka, and he looked around to see Castiel’s face very,  _ very  _ close to his. “Umm, Cas?” he tried, knowing occasionally Dean called him by the shortened name, “Personal space? It’s something that exists?” 

Castiel just grinned and pushed Sam closer to Luka. 

Luka smiled as he saw them approach. “Isn’t it  _ beautiful? _ ” he asked, gesturing out towards Paris in general.

Sam gave a smile and a half shrug, leaning against the bridge again, keeping his distance. 

Castiel rolled his eyes, as if they were a giant inconvenience, and pulled Luka up, pushing him lightly towards Sam. 

Luka is sometimes not the most graceful of men, and this was one such time. He tripped. Sam stood up straight to catch him, feeling Luka’s breath across his neck and hearing his little “Oh!” of embarrassment.

“Paree holds the key to  _ l’amour!”  _ Castiel said  _ sotto voce,  _ as if it were a terrible secret. He seemed to smirk as he noticed Sam was still holding onto Luka, and Luka Sam. “And not even Freud knows the cure!” 

“Cas,” Dean chuckled, snagging his lover away from the two younger people, “Leave them be.”

“But Dean!” Castiel exclaimed, “There’s love in the air! At the Folies Bergère!”

“Yes,  _ moy angel,  _ I know,” Dean said patiently, leading Castiel away from Sam and Luka. 

Luka was content to remain in Sam’s arms for a little bit, and Sam relished the contact. He knew that after tonight, this couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen. 

“The French have it down to an art!” Castiel exclaimed dramatically, pointing at Sam and Luka as to emphasize his point. Luka blushed and slowly withdrew from Sam’s grasp, biting his lower lip shyly. Sam took his arm and started walking down the street with him, following Dean and Castiel. 

“Paree holds the key to your heart!” Castiel purred, plucking a cigarette out of an innocent bystander’s hand. Taking a huge drag from the bud, he concentrated for a moment before blowing out a heart shaped smoke ring towards the direction of Luka and Sam. 

“Ooh la la!” a young man, a few years older than Sam and Luka, couldn’t help but tease. Luka blushed furiously and looked down at his shoes. Sam gave him a playful shoulder nudge and smiled when his blue eyes met his. 

Oh, how he was going to miss this. . . 

“When you’re feeling blue,” Castiel began to explain as he snatched a man’s hat straight off his head and putting it on his own, posing in front of a red building that had a windmill on it, “Come down to Le Moulin!”

Dean was laughing, shaking his head in amusement and Luka had a starstruck gaze about him as Castiel led them inside. Luka looked back at the mopey Sam and he laughed, tugging him along. 

Sam couldn’t help but smile. Luka’s enthusiasm was a bit infectious, and he didn’t want his heir to the throne to notice how sad he was. It’d break Sam. 

“When your heart says  _ don’t,  _ the French say  _ do! _ ” Castiel continued to enthuse, hailing a maitre d’ with a beaming smile and holding up four fingers, signalling for a table. They were ushered to one quickly, and wine was served. Dean scooted his seat closer to Castiel, and to the eyes of all but Sam and Luka, had whispered something in his ear. But the two noticed that the whisper was actually a gentle kiss. Castiel grinned and gave laid his hand on top of Dean’s and gave a squeeze. 

“When you think you can’t, you’ll find that you can can,” Castiel hummed playfully. “In fact, everyone can can can!”

“ _ Moy angel _ ,” Dean reproached as they watched the can can dancers come on. “You’re being a little silly.”

Castiel grinned and turned around in his chair, perching like a bird of prey on the seat and drew his hat off his head, eyebrows wiggling in a pattern that had Luka in a fit of giggles, burying his head in Sam’s shoulder. Sam was also chortling. 

“You can, can can too!” Castiel, in his enthusiasm, leaned back a bit too far in his chair and, in an attempt to steady himself, threw the hat in the line of the can-can dancers. 

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean sighed, bringing Castiel’s chair up and dashing onto the stage to retrieve the hat. . . right as the can-can dancers began to, well, can-can. As can-can dancers are wont to do. 

Castiel, Sam, and Luka laughed as Dean retrieved the hat with relative ease, but as he was about to head back to the trio sitting down, got ensnared into doing the kickline. His protests were drowned out with  _ Orpheus in the Underworld _ , and in order to maintain his balance. . . he had to participate in the kickline. 

Sam was laughing, his sides were in stitches. He looked at Castiel, who was laughing with an easy going grin on his face and then his eyes fell onto Luka, who was beaming and laughing as he sipped his wine delicately. He felt like his heart was stabbed.    
Dean finally found his way out of the kickline, face flushed red, and he returned to his seat, slamming the hat down on Castiel’s head. Castiel laughed and when Dean was settled in his seat, leaned forward and kissed Dean’s lips quickly and chastely, but it was enough to soothe the other. Dean sighed and just shook his head, smiling warmly. 

Sam sighed as he watched Luka get bold and ask a young woman to dance. The grace in his movements pained the conman, and he held up his glass of wine, observing Luka in the glass as he dipped the woman. “Paree holds the key to his past,” he said, almost regretfully. “Yes, Tsarevitch, I’ve found you at last.” He took a sip as another young girl took place up in Luka’s arms. A stab of jealousy ripped through him as the song ended and Luka gave a courtly bow, lifting the girl’s hand up to his lips and placing a kiss on it, the girl blushing shyly. “No more pretend; you’ll be gone, that’s the end. . .”

Luka would do well at court. He’ll find a very good match, settle down as a man of wealth and fortune, titled as royalty, and have beautiful children with bright blue eyes and mischievous smiles. Perhaps even one will inherit his sardonic wit. . . 

“Paree holds the key to your heart!” Dean said boisterously as they left Le Moulin Rouge a couple hours later. Luka laughed and linked arms with Sam, a flush in his cheeks from dancing and wine.  

“You’ll be  _ très joli  _ and so smart!” Castiel laughed as he pointed the group towards the Eiffel Tower. 

Luka couldn’t help but skip on ahead of the group, almost dancing in the streets as he went. Several people looked at him indulgently. A course of jealousy ran through Sam as one young girl stopped Luka for a quick chat, only for her to kiss his cheek and dash off. Luka blushed, touching his cheek and giving a somewhat guilty glance back at the trio. 

Castiel laughed and dashed on ahead to lift Luka up and spin him around, the two of them laughing. 

“Come dance through the night-” Castiel started to say, and Luka picked up with, “and forget all your woes!”

Dean laughed and clapped as the two began waltzing playfully in the streets, and Sam couldn’t help but think of how Luka waltzed just minutes ago with several girls, being a perfect gentleman the entire time. 

“The City of Light-where a rose is a rose!” Castiel went on to say as he paid for the four of them to ascend  _ La Tour Eiffel,  _ leading them to the elevator. 

“What’s that?” Luka asked, clutching Sam’s arm nervously as he appraised the contraption. 

Castiel cocked his head to the side curiously, as if to say  _ who doesn’t know what an elevator is _ ?

Sam gave him a look, hugging Luka close, relishing the close contact, even if he knew it would never be anything more than a hug between two friends. “It’s an elevator, your Grace,” he whispered softly in his ear. “It’s basically a quicker way of going up and down, rather than using the stairs.” 

Luka nodded. “I’ve heard of them,” he murmured, “But I’ve never seen one.” He regarded it with a critical eye. “Is it safe?”

Sam nodded, “It is, but I can hold your hand if you want,” he whispered. 

_ And one never knows what will start _

“Please?” Luka asked softly. 

Sam slid his hand down and pressed his fingers in between Luka’s. “Of course.” 

Dean was holding back some sort of smile, and Castiel smiled indulgently as Sam lead Luka into the elevator. The other man was squeezing it tightly, but it relaxed as they began moving up, and Luka looked out, seeing more and more of Paris and his eyes lighting up in excitement. 

“Paree holds the key-” Castiel exclaimed, gesturing wildly towards Paris, the quartet at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Luka was at the railing, peering out over in wonder at the City of Light and Romance. 

“To his,” Sam sighed quietly, pocketing the rose from earlier, his gaze firmly focused on Luka’s childlike wonderment. 

“Heart!!!” Castiel almost sang the last line before clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I know you have a good tux, but I am fairly certain that Samuel and Luka do not,” he said casually. “Come on, the tailor’s still open, and we’ll have them fitted quickly.” 

Dean nodded. “I’ll take Sammy, you’ll take Luka?” he asked. 

Castiel nodded. “I can agree to that,” he said. “Luka? Let’s go get you fitted for a tux.” 

Luka nodded. “Can we take the stairs?” he asked. 

Castiel nodded, laughing softly. “Yes, we can,” he said. 

Dean looped his arm around his best friend. “Come on! Let’s get you fitted.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said, following Dean, watching Luka and Castiel walk down the stairs, chatting about. . . something. A book, probably. 

 

“Every gentleman needs a cape to make sure he is kept warm in his tux,” Castiel said as they walked down the street. 

Luka nodded, stopping in front of a store window. He was fitted in his tux, a brilliant ice blue bow tie resting underneath his chin and his hair had been trimmed and styled. Castiel thought he did look like royalty. 

Following Luka’s gaze, he saw what had caught Luka’s attention. It was a beautiful black fox fur cape with pale blue crushed velvet on the inner lining. The awe on Luka’s face was a bit endearing. 

“Luka?” he asked gently, trying to catch his attention. 

“I think I had a cape like this, many years ago,” Luka said quietly. “That’s fox fur, isn’t it?” 

_ Now how would an orphan boy know fox fur just from looking at it?  _ Castiel wondered as he nodded.  _ Maybe Dean’s right. Maybe he is Lucifer.  _

“Can we?” Luka asked hopefully. The young man looked at Castiel with wide eyes. “ _ Pozhalsta? _ ”

“Of course,” Castiel said with a smile as he opened the shop door to bid Luka entry.

The cape fit Luka beautifully, as if it was made for him, and Castiel smiled at the joy on his face. 

_ Even if he isn’t Lucifer Romanov,  _ he thought to himself as they left the shop,  _ I hope this young man finds happiness. _


	11. The Russian Ballet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Russian Ballet is radiant; but so is betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO THE PAIN

“Dean, there’s nothing to be worried about,” Sam sighed. 

“I know, but like, I can’t help it! What if the Emperor doesn’t believe it?” Dean asked, sitting down next to Sam. 

“He will,” Sam assured him. 

“How can you be so sure, Sammy?” 

Sam sighed. “Because I was the boy, who opened the wall. I was the one who got them out,” he confessed. “He’s the real thing, Dean.” 

Dean’s jaw dropped open slightly and stood up. Sam followed him. 

“That means. . . Luka has found his family,” Dean whispered. Sam nodded in agreement, a bit sad by this fact. 

“We found. . . the heir to the Russian throne,” Dean continued before looking at Sam. “And you-”

“Will walk out of his life forever,” Sam vowed. 

“Sam-” Dean started to say but Sam held up a hand.

“Tsarevitches don’t marry kitchen boys. Especially the boys,” the con man said.

“You should tell him,” Dean said convincingly, getting into Sam’s personal space. 

“Tell me what?” Luka’s voice appeared out of nowhere and the two men looked to see Luka standing there in a tuxedo. In the low light of the street, they could see a black fox fur cape draped around his shoulders elegantly. 

Sam gave a small bow. “How handsome you look tonight,” he said, before Dean could get a word in edgewise. 

“Oh, thank you,” Luka said with a warm smile. 

The three walked in together and it wasn’t until Luka was at the top of the stairs, waiting for Sam to hurry up having the coat carrier put away his own cape and gloves, that the con man truly noticed how  _ handsome  _ Luka was. 

Luka was slim and carried a regal bearing about him, the black tux and the white shirt contrasting brilliantly with his skin. The ice blue waistcoat matched his eyes  _ perfectly.  _ For once, his hair was slicked flat, with a little bit of his bangs hanging over his forehead. 

Luka made an impatient sort of movement and Sam checked himself, realizing that his behavior wasn’t exactly platonic in nature. He ran up the stairs and to Luka’s side, Dean following shortly behind. 

 

Once they were settled in their seats, Sam pulled out a small pair of binoculars and handed them to Luka, pointing to the former Emperor’s box. Luka raised them to his eyes and saw Castiel and the Emperor sitting alone. The Emperor was looking at the stage with a calm expression, but Castiel caught Luka’s wistful expression and gave a soft wink. 

“Please, let him remember me,” Luka murmured as the overture to Cinderella began. 

The first half of the ballet was long, and Luka directed half his time to the Emperor’s box and to the ballet itself using the binoculars. By the time that Cinderella was getting ready to go to the ball, Luka was no longer watching. Instead, he was concentrating on tearing his program to pieces, nervous beyond belief. 

Sam noticed the nervous tick and in a moment of boldness, slipped his hand into Luka’s. Pressing his lips to the back of it to get Luka’s full attention, he murmured, “Everything’s going to be fine, Luka.” 

“If you say so, Sam,” Luka whispered back, eyes flicking first from Sam’s hand, to his lips, to his eyes in a manner of microseconds.

Behind them, Dean snored, asleep. 

 

Intermission came about as Prince Charming longingly looked after the coach carrying Cinderella away, holding up the glass slipper. As the lights came back on, Sam patted Luka’s shoulder. “Show time,” he murmured. 

He ushered Luka along with a single minded efficiency, reminding Luka to breathe and assuring him that everything was going to be fine. Luka, however, wasn’t as confident.

“You’re going to be fine- no, no, no,” Sam soothed, turning Luka around yet again and leading him, hand on the small of his back, over to the box where the Emperor sat. 

“Sam,” Luka said, just before Sam went in. 

“Yeah?” he asked, stopping and looking at Luka. 

Luka stopped briefly and gnawed on his lower lip. “I. . . I just wanted to say thank you, I guess. Yes. Thank you for everything. I just hope that this is everything. . .” 

Luka didn’t have to finish. Sam understood. The con man pressed a gentle finger to Luka’s lips, watching ice blue eyes look at his in utmost innocence and vulnerability. 

“There is no need to thank me,” Sam murmured. “Now wait here, I’ll go announce you.” 

“Alright,” Luka said. 

Sam ducked into the room, closing the door, but not closing it all the way by accident. 

He found Castiel standing and smiling at him gently. He could see the back of Charles’ head. 

“Please inform his Imperial Majesty that I have found his grandson,” Sam announced authoritatively. 

“I’m afraid that the Emperor will not see any more so called ‘Lucifers’,” Castiel admitted in a grave tone. 

“You can tell that impertinent young man that I do not wish to have my heart broken over and over again,” the Emperor added. 

“You should leave,” Castiel murmured. 

Sam, however, wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He pushed back the curtain and kneeled next to the Emperor. “Your Majesty, my name is Samuel Winchester. I used to work at the palace,” he explained. 

“Oh, well,  _ that’s  _ one I haven’t heard of before,” Charles scoffed. He got up and went to leave. 

“No, please don’t go,” Sam said, getting up and running to the curtain. “I intend you no harm. Please, just hear me out.” 

“I have seen this before, young man,” Charles said. “People who train young men in the royal ways.”

“But if your Majesty will just listen-” Sam said. 

“Haven’t you been listening? I’ve had enough! No matter how you train this young man to sound like him, act like him- and in the end, it never is him.”

“But this time it is him!” Sam insisted. 

“Samuel,” Charles let the name roll off his tongue, “I’ve heard of you. You’re that con man from St. Petersburg who was holding  _ auditions  _ for a Tsarevitch Lucifer lookalike.” The Emperor sat down on the couch in the little room near the theatre. 

“But we’ve come all the way from Russia-” 

“And I’ve had men come all the way from Timbuktu,” Charles snipped. 

“It’s not what you think,” Sam said, kneeling down in front of the former Emperor and laying a hand on his knee. 

“How much pain will you inflict on an old man for money?!” Charles asked, knocking Sam over backwards as he stood. “Remove him at once!” 

Two men in suits came out and grabbed Sam by the arms and dragged him out. 

Sam shouted, “But he  _ really  _ is Lucifer! I’m telling you, just talk to him and you’ll see!” 

This was the only thing he managed to say before he was tossed unceremoniously out of the box. . . and at an angry Luka’s feet. 

“So this was all a lie?” Luka asked, his voice hurt. Sam’s heart broke. “I was just part of your con to get his money?” 

“No, it’s not that,” Sam said hurriedly, getting off the floor and walking towards Luka. Luka moved backwards. 

“You  _ used  _ me?” Luka continued. 

“No, no, no, I mean, it started out that way, but then it wasn’t. Because you really  _ are  _ Lucifer,” Sam said. 

“Stop!” Luka commanded. “From the very beginning,  _ you lied to me.  _ And to think that I believed  _ every little thing  _ you said- ugh!” 

Luka began walking away angrily, and Sam ran in front of him, back walking as he talked. 

“Luka, listen to me. Remember when you spoke of the wall opening, and the boy-” Sam implored. 

“No!” Luka shouted, moving around Sam. “I don’t want to listen to anymore of your  _ lies! _ ” 

He moved away, and Sam grabbed his wrist. 

Once again, Luka’s fist moved into his line of vision and punched him in the face, square in his nose. Sam shouted, releasing his grip on Luka’s jacket.

When Sam’s vision cleared, Luka was gone. 

Sighing, Sam headed out of the theatre, contemplating how best to get Charles to listen to him. 

Luka  _ was  _ Lucifer. How could  _ neither  _ of them listen to him?

Sure, he was a conman- and apparently a well known one, if Charles heard of him all the way in here in Paris. 

He couldn’t get Luka’s hurt blue eyes out of his mind. He felt so bad for hurting Luka in such a way. . . 

Caught up in his thoughts, he saw the Emperor’s personal car pull up and saw the Emperor leaving the theatre, heading to it. 

An idea lit up in his brain, and as the driver opened the door to the car, Sam ran around the back of the car and got into the driver’s seat. Closing the door, he threw the car into gear and sped off. 

“Illiya, slow down!” the Emperor shouted. 

Sam turned around and glared at him. “I’m  _ not  _ Illiya, and I will  _ not  _ slow down!”

“How dare. . . Stop this car! Stop this car  _ immediately! _ ” Charles commanded. 

Sam ignored him and drove to the hotel he, Dean, and Luka were staying at. 


	12. Soon You'll Be Home With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka finds his way home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sobs*

Sam got out of the car angrily and marched over to the side that Charles was on. Yanking it open, he pointed to the hotel. "You have to talk to him! Just look at him!"

"I don't have to do anything I don't want to, you impertinent young man. I am getting old, and I don't want to suffer any more heartbreak," Charles said imperiously. 

Sam dropped to one knee, ducking his hand into his tux and pulling out the silver music box that he had picked up that fateful night. "Do you recognize this?" 

Charles gently picked the music box out of his hands and looked it over, a sad look coming over his blue eyes. "Where'd you find this?" he asked quietly. 

"I know you've been hurting," Sam said quietly, looking at the grandfather of the man he loved, "but it's entirely possible that he's been hurting for just as long." 

Charles gave a small smile and looked over at Sam. "You're a stubborn man," he observed. 

"I'm just as stubborn as you when we get right down to it," Sam grinned. 

 

Up in the hotel, Luka was hurriedly packing his stuff. The rose from earlier that night fell out, and he reached down to pick it up, then decided to leave it. 

_ This was stupid. I should've never left St. Petersburg. _

The door opened and Luka sighed as he ripped off the bowtie he was wearing, not turning to see who it was. "Go away, Samuel," he said tartly, tossing the offending piece of fabric onto the suit jacket. He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. 

The footsteps, instead of retreating, came closer, and he sighed, turning to look at the former Emperor. "Oh. I'm sorry-"

"I know exactly who you thought I was," Charles said quietly, observing the handsome young man in front of him. He did look so much like the grandson he adored, all grown up. A hint of scruff was on his chin, and he had what seemed to be Mikhail's strong gaze. "Who are you? And why are you here?" 

"I was hoping to find out where I belonged, but I'm not sure I did," Luka admitted sadly. 

“I’m an old man,” Charles said, making his way over to the open French doors and staring out into the Parisian night. “And I’m tired of being conned and tricked.” 

“I don’t want to trick you,” Luka said honestly, openly.

"And the money doesn't interest you, either?" Charles pressed. 

"No," Luka replied, shaking his head. "I just wanted to know if I belonged here. If I had a family- your family." 

Charles raised a brow and nodded. "You're a very good actor. The best yet, in fact. But, I've had enough." 

"I understand," Luka whispered, closing his eyes. He failed, and now. . . he was truly alone. 

Charles moved passed him, and Luka caught a strong scent, a scent he hadn't smelled in years. "Is that. . . whiskey?" 

"A guilty pleasure of mine," Charles said, turning slightly to regard the young man. 

"Yes. . . I remember. I spilled the bottle in the library one day, when I tried climbing to grab a book," Luka said slowly, giving a small smile at the sudden memory. "And it stained the carpet. Mother had the servants try oh so very hard to get it out, but it forever smelled of whiskey. . . just like you." 

Charles stopped. Not one of the other Lucifer actors even commented on the smell of whiskey, an oddity for a Russian to be drinking. He slowly sat down. That smile reminded him so much of Ana it hurt. 

"I used to lay there for hours waiting for you to come back to Russia," Lucifer sighed, fiddling with his necklace, smiling softly. "Pretending it was you reading to me. . . I used to hide from my tutors there, ‘cause you were the best tutor I had."

Charles sat down on the bed and beckoned Luka over to him, inviting him to sit down next to him. Luka did, still playing with the necklace. He gently brushed the younger man's hands aside to view the silver flower pendant. "Where did you get that?" he asked softly. 

"This?" Luka asked, holding the flower pendant up with his thumb. "I've had this for as long as I can remember. I was found with it." 

Charles reached inside his travel cloak, pulling out the music box that had been returned to him. "It was our secret, my Lucifer and mine."

Luka's eyes lit up and he gently held his hand out for the silver circle. "It’s the music box you gave me to sing me to sleep while you were in Paris!” he said excitedly. He looked up at Charles. “May I?" 

Nodding, Charles handed it over as Luka slid the necklace off of his neck and used it as a key, just like he was supposed to. Then the Emperor was listening hard. Luka was humming, humming the tune. . .

"Hear this song and remember," Luka sang softly, his voice a dark, sweet tenor that had only gotten better with age. Charles could see Luka- Lucifer- his grandson- serenading any woman he wanted. 

"Soon you'll be home with me, once upon a December," they sang together, smiling at each other as the song died out. There were tears in both men’s eyes, and Charles opened his arms. 

"Oh my. . . Lucifer!" He whispered. 

Lucifer flung himself into Charles' arms. "Grandpapa!"

Charles caught him and hugged him close, unable to stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks, feeling Lucifer clutch at him. 

"I'm home," Lucifer whispered quietly. 

 

Outside, Sam heard the joyous sounds of grandfather and grandson being reunited. Heaving a sigh, he tentatively blew a kiss in the direction of the happy family and started walking off in the middle of the night, knowing that he would have to content himself with only memories of Lucifer’s bright blue eyes and sardonic smile and the way he said his name through pale pink lips. 

Lucifer Romanov was found; the heir of the Russian throne was in his rightful place, at the side of the former tsar. There was no place for a kitchen boy turned con man like Sam in that life. He’ll return to St. Petersburg, a lonely soul, and continue conning. It was all he was good for, anyways.

 


	13. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick Roman plans, and Sam has a change of heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dying whale noises*

“Crowley! How fast can you make me a suit?” Dick Roman boomed as he threw a newspaper down. 

“Depends on how good you want to look in it, Sir,” Crowley said as he patiently sewed his slacks back together. “How much less than an eternally damned man do you want to look?” 

Dick growled. “There’s a party tonight.” 

“Fantastic. What’s special about this one?” Crowley asked, holding the pants up to the candle to observe his tight, neat stitches. 

“The Grand Duke has been reunited with his  _ grandpapa, _ and Charles is throwing a ball in honor of his grandson’s return,” Dick explained. 

Crowley sighed as he finished the stitches. Again with the revenge thing. “I assume you want to go there and kill Lucifer?” 

“After he’s had his moment, yes!” Dick said happily. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but get a life, Dick,” Crowley said in a sharp tone. 

“I’ll get a life- his!” Dick shouted, scaring the critters in the rafters of the clock they were staying in. 

Crowley sighed. “Fine. I’ll need a sewing machine and a few yards of fabric. More thread too. And absolute silence. I assume your measurements are the same?” 

“They are,” Dick said, mollified and pleased. 

“And I assume that you still dress to the left,” Crowley furthered his inquiry. 

“What little there is of it, yes,” Dick hummed. 

Crowley really didn’t want to hear that. “Fine. Get me the materials, and I’ll have you looking finer than the Grand Duke himself.” 

 

Sam gave a deep bow to the former Tsar. “You sent for me, your Grace?” 

“Ten million rubles as promised, as well as my gratitude,” Charles said with a warm smile. 

“I will accept your gratitude,” Sam said politely, but firmly. “But I won’t accept the money.”

“What do you want then?” Charles asked softly. 

“Unfortunately, something only the Lord himself could grant me,” Sam said with a small, wry smile that didn’t seem to fit on his face.

“Sam,” Chuck called, and watched the young man’s steps slow down. “Where  _ did  _ you find Lucifer’s music box?” 

Sam remained silent. 

“You were the servant boy, the one who opened the servants’ passage and bought us time to escape,” Charles hummed, walking over to him and placing a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You saved his life- and mine, truth be told. And now you have brought him home to me. Why the change of mind?” 

“It’s not a change of mind,” Sam said slowly. “It’s a change of heart.” 

Charles removed his hand and Sam walked off. Charles sighed softly as he watched Sam round the corner, giving  a small smile to himself. 

“The Russian throne no longer exists,” he murmured softly. “It’s just a title, Sam. If Lucifer wants to be with you, then he has my blessing.”

Knowing that no one would hear those words, he returned to his desk and began writing. 


	14. Dick Roman Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for the ball are made, good byes are said, and Luka meets an old foe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MANY DYING WHALE NOISES. 
> 
> Also, this was the chapter I refer to as the Dick chapter because Ry kept making this highly dirty. Never name your villain Dick. Never. 
> 
> Not to mention we went HOW CREEPY CAN WE MAKE HIM. The answer is highly.

“I miss them so much,” Luka sighed, trailing his fingers over the picture of him with his brothers and sisters. 

“They would not want us to dwell on the past, and for us to be happy that we’re reunited,” Chuck said kindly, turning back to find a drawing Lucifer had done of himself sitting on a bench. “Oh look! The drawing you gave me! Do you remember?” 

Luka took it and laughed happily. “Yes, I do! Zakhariya made me so  _ mad,  _ he said it looked like a pig riding a donkey!”

Chuck threw his head back and laughed while Luka gazed at the portrait with a critical eye. “He was right, though.”

“Hearing you laugh warms my heart, and reminds me so much of my Castiel,” Chuck said, standing up and going over to a blue velvet covered box. He gently lifted the lid as Luka stood and walked over to the mirror, gasping as he saw a golden crown, red crushed velvet underneath the crossbeams that held up the jewel encrusted Maltese cross. “But you have the grace of your mother, Ana. Empress of all of Russia.” He placed the crown on Luka’s head as Luka bowed. Turning, Luka looked at himself in the mirror and gasped. He may be clad in a simple blue tunic and pants, made of the finest Chinese silk, but with the crown, he looked regal. Like he could take on any army he wished. 

“You’ll only wear this one for very important affairs, it’s not very conducive for balls and such,” Chuck said. “Instead, you’ll be wearing a circlet similar to this.” 

Luka nodded, smiling. 

“Now, you’re supposed to be meeting Castiel for your fitting for court dress, shoo,” Chuck said, removing the crown and kissing his grandson’s cheek affectionately.

 

Luka was ascending the stairs shortly after he was fitted for his Imperial dress, his outfit that he would wear tonight. He noted Sam jogging down the stairs, presumably with ten million rubles in his pocket. Luka didn’t bear ill will so as much as he was annoyed that it all started off as a way to con his grandfather.

“Hello, Sam,” he greeted. 

Sam stopped and turned to look at the voice, seeing it was Luka, dressed in a rich black tux, an ice blue tie similar to the one he had danced with on the ship. . . “Oh, hello,” he said.

“Did you get your reward?” Luka inquired.   
“My business is no one’s but my own,” Sam said simply. 

Luka nodded. “I see.”   
“Excuse me,” a palace attendant noted, now seeing an entrance to but in, “but before the Tsarevitch, you will bow, and address him as ‘Your Highness’.”

“That won’t be necessary-” Luka started to say but Sam cut him off.

“Please,” Sam insisted, bowing deeply before Luka, “your Highness. I am glad you found what you were looking for.”

The air changed between them then. Luka’s back became straighter and his chin lifted slightly. Not arrogantly, but regally, and Sam felt a stab in his chest.  _ This is the proper way,  _ he thought. “And I am glad you found what you sought too,” Luka finished, his voice a bit stiffer than before. 

“Goodbye, your Highness,” Sam said, bowing once more and continuing down the stairs, not even looking behind him. 

Luka watched him go and sighed regretfully, unable to feel the pain in his heart at watching someone he began to- dare he say?- fall in love with.  _ This is my life now. I can’t marry for love. Or be myself. _ “Goodbye, Samuel,” he whispered as he watched him go.

 

Dean stood in his quarters,  getting ready for the ball welcoming the Tsarevitch home, Balthazar gnawing on a bone in the corner. Sam stepped into the doorway and cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he said, walking over to Dean a bit fornlornly, “if you’re ever in St. Petersburg, don’t be afraid to drop in.” He reached out and hugged Dean. 

Dean hugged back, unable to not voice his opinion. “Sammy, you’re making a big mistake.” 

“It’s better this way, Dean,” Sam sighed, gesturing at his friend, dressed in his own very fitted tux and medals adorning his chest, “you and Cas can get away with it easier. You’re of the same social class, and you two have been friends since childhood. Hell, it’s easier for you to pass off as just platonic friends. I’m. . . I’m a kitchen boy. And he’s the Tsarevitch. Even if he  _ did  _ lean more towards men. . . There are better men than me out there.” He looked away, unable to face Dean’s eyes anymore. 

“If you’re sure,” Dean said slowly, clapping Sam’s shoulder.

Sam nodded. “I am.”    
Balthazar whined and abandoned his bone to walk over to Sam, staring up at his new friend forlornly. 

Sam sighed. “I can’t stay, buddy,” he said, kneeling down and running his fingers through the chow’s fur. “You stay here, and protect Luka, alright? Can you do that for me, buddy?”

Balthazar gave a deep gruff bark, licking Sam’s palm. 

“Good. You protect him, since I can’t.” Sam then got up, gave a two finger salute to Dean, and walked out to go to the train station to head back to Russia.

 

At the ball, Luka is watched the dancing from behind the curtain behind the thrones. He was wearing a dark royal blue tux with a matching dark blue royal cape. His silver circlet on his head. He barely felt his grandfather appear from behind him. 

“He’s not there, you know,” Chuck murmured to him. 

“Who’s not there, Grandpapa?” Luka asked, turning slightly to regard his grandfather. 

“A remarkable young man,” Chuck hummed, “who found a music box.”

Luka scoffed. “He’s probably spending his ten million rubles as fast as he can,” he said flippantly, but his heart ached.  _ Sam wasn’t here.  _

Chuck chose to not answer that at this moment. “Look at them dance,” he said, gesturing. Luka did, smiling as he thought of Sam and him waltzing on the ship. “You were born for this life, but I’m wondering, is it enough?”

Luka looked at his grandfather, closing his portion of the curtain. “Of course it is,” he said, shocked that it wouldn’t be. “I found out my past. I remember my past. I found you. I found my family and who I am. Why wouldn’t that be enough?” 

Chuck sighed, closing the curtain and looking up at Lucifer. He knew what Lucifer was like. He knew his grandson was more like him than he probably realized. And he saw the way Lucifer looked after he said that Sam Winchester wasn’t at the ball. The flippant tone didn’t dissuade him. “My dear, you realize that if you stay in this life, you will be expected to wed a woman, and have children with her,” he said, resting his hands on his shoulders.

“Of course, Grandpapa, why wouldn’t I?” Luka asked in confusion, acting like he was offended that this wouldn’t be what he did. Secretly, he was terrified. Sure, he’s had a couple of quick make out sessions out of Comrade Missouri’s sight, quick ruts against the old barn door with a woman’s breathy pant in his ear. But he’s never seen a woman naked, and even when he was rutting against her, her legs hitched up around his waist and rubbing on him through his trousers, he’s thought about doing this with a guy, that it was a man that he was doing this, praising him and tugging on his hair. If he was married. . . he’s not sure he could keep that up. 

Chuck smiled sadly. “Lucifer, he didn’t take the reward,” he said tenderly.  

“He didn’t?” Luka asked in surprise. At Chuck’s confirming nod, he said, “Oh.” 

“Let me tell you something, Lucifer,” Chuck said softly, cupping his grandson’s cheek. Lucifer leaned into it, just as he would when he was a child, “Not all of us have to be so dutiful, and live a life they weren’t meant to live. And if you lean more towards the men, there’s no shame in that.”

Luka shook his head slowly. “Yes, there is. I am. . . It means my brain is sick,” he whispered softly. 

Chuck sighed, knowing where that was coming from. “If your brain is sick, then so is mine, but perhaps less so,” he confessed. He drew Lucifer into his arms and kissed his cheek in a familial way. “Lucifer, darling. If you love him, then I have no complaints.” He hugged Lucifer tightly, feeling his grandson return it and give a soft cry of unknowing what to do. Trying to choose between duty and heart. “Seeing you alive, and knowing you’re alive, brings warm feelings to my heart. Whatever you decide, we will always have Paris, and each other.” He kissed Lucifer’s forehead and slipped out of the curtain to sit down.

Lucifer sighed and played with the sleeves of his tuxedo, glancing forlornly out at the empty hallways, as if to see Sam running down them. When his vision didn’t come true, he went to follow his grandfather when he heard Balthazar barking his head off. 

“Balthy?” he hissed, running off to try to find the chow. “Balthy, what is it?” 

He ran outside, hearing the barking coming from the garden. He was unaware that hedges were closing up behind him and he suddenly found himself on a bridge overlooking the River Seine.

“Balthy, what is it?” he asked, kneeling by the puppy and cooing softly to him. 

“Lucifer,” an almost ghostly voice echoed around him. Lucifer’s hackles raised and he glanced around at the sudden fog that had appeared. His eyes finally fell on a man in a fine suit, but with his face and hands horribly mangled beyond repair. “Your Imperial Highness,” the mystery man said, giving a grandiose bow. “Look at what the years have done to us. You are a handsome young man. . . while I slowly rot away.” The tone in his voice was bitter, angry almost. 

“That face. . .” Lucifer said, standing up as bits of the night of the siege took place. “That voice. . .” He felt his fingers curl into fists. 

“Would you like to remember, my dear?” the man said cruelly, holding out a black horn of some sort. 

Burgundy colored smoke swirled out and swirled around Lucifer and he crouched on the ground, the rest of that night coming back in full force. He felt the smoke whirl through his hair and he looked up as the smoke returned to its Master.

Lucifer stood up to his full height, blue eyes ablaze in fury. “Dick Roman,” he growled. 

“ _Dick Roman.”_ Dick gushed, pretending to be Lucifer. “Oh, my name sounds so sweet falling off your lips, just. . . the right amount of deepness. Not even your father had that, even when he was begging for his life. Would you like to recreate our night on the ice?” He leered at the young prince and Lucifer felt like he may vomit onto the stone beneath him. 

But Lucifer was nothing if not brave, stupid, and royalty. He held his ground, tilting his chin up high. “I’m not afraid of you!” he declared. Inside, he could feel eight year old him quivering but he soothed that memory, saying he was going to get rid of this bastard once and for all. 

“Oh, Lucifer, I can fix that!” Dick taunted. He pointed the relic at the part of the bridge that Lucifer was standing on, the smoke coming out and starting to break off from the main bridge. “Care for a swim under the ice?”

Lucifer screamed as his balance was turned upside down. He held onto the falling piece of bridge as he tried to climb up it, using the skills he had learned as an orphan, when he had thrown all of Comrade Missouri’s clothes into the lake after they were just washed (he wasn’t alone in this, there was another orphan boy helping him) and the lake froze. She knew instinctively who it was and so Luka had ran for his life, climbing onto the roof of the barn by using the tree nearby while she shouted profanities at him. . .

But climbing a barn is not the same thing as attempting to climb a falling piece of bridge.  

“There’s no one to save you now!” Dick cackled maniacally.

“DO YOU WANNA BET?!” shouted a new voice entering the fray. Lucifer’s heart soared upon hearing it.  _ Sam! _ Sam punched Dick in the face and dove after Luka, grabbing his hand tightly. It was warm and firm, promising not to let go. 

“Sam. . .” Lucifer panted, hoisting himself onto the bridge that wasn’t falling steadily, “if we live through this-”

“You can thank me when he’s dead,” Sam panted. 

“Awww how sweet,” Dick crooned, watching the scene in front of him. “Together again, for the last time!” He pointed the relic at Sam and hoisted him into the air and on top of a stone pegasus, which came to life under demonic power. 

Lucifer was now clinging to the bridge still attached to the main bridge. He tried hoisting himself up, using what muscles he had. 

Dick grabbed Lucifer by his short blond hair, making the Tsarevitch hiss in pain. “ _ Do svidanya,  _ Your Grace!” He purred sickly. 

Lucifer glared up at him with harsh eyes, using Dick’s hold on him to help push himself up. 

Balthazar gave a brief, warning growl before biting down on the dying mystic’s ankle.

“You  _ dog! _ ” Dick howled. He tried to push Balthazar off of him, but the chow bit down even harder, effectively distracting him from his task. Using the relic, he focused a single demon out of it to push the puppy off of him. The dog growled and began wrestling with its new adversary. 

Dick turned in time to see a splash in the river below. “Long Live the Romanovs!” he cackled, believing that the curse was complete. 

“Funny,” an out of breath Lucifer snarled, “I couldn’t have said it better myself!” He ran towards Dick and tackled him to the ground, straddling the other man’s chest and punching him solidly in the face. Dick growled and grabbed Lucifer’s wrist, twisting it violently until there was a sickening crack of bone.  

Sam managed to find a way out of his stone foe and he ran a bit aways. Spying the black horn that seemed to be the cause of everyone’s trouble, he picked it up and noticed Lucifer was on his feet. “Luka!” he shouted, catching his friend’s attention. “Catch!” He then threw it Luka’s way. 

Dick, unfortunately, noticed this attempt of destruction and rounded on Sam. “I’ll make you pay for that,  _ boy _ ,” he spat. Getting into Sam’s personal space, the mystic punched Sam first in the stomach and then again in the nose, rendering the former kitchen aide unconscious. 

This was a mistake, as Lucifer was well versed in catching flying objects, and he caught the relic with ease with his free hand, the one Dick broke cradled against his chest protectively, and noticed Sam on the ground, unconscious. He snarled and then placed the horn underneath his foot and pressed down on it, feeling it crack underneath his shoe. “THIS is for Sam!” he declared. 

Dick now realized his fatal mistake upon hearing this and began running towards the Tsarevitch. “GIVE THAT BACK!” he shouted angrily. 

Lucifer wasn’t about to stop, nor give back his family’s killer’s precious commodity. “THIS is for my family!” he enunciated as Dick threw himself prostrate at his feet, crushing the horn more. 

The demon torturing Balthazar disappeared into a wave of smoke and the stone pegasus that was attacking Sam previously shattered.

“Please, stop!” Dick sobbed, clutching at the stone near Lucifer’s feet futilely.

Lucifer glared down at the shadow of a man that betrayed his family and felt no sympathy. “And this,” he said, every inch of his voice giving a royal decree, “ _ this  _ is for you!”

“NO!” came the horrified protest from Dick.

“ _ Do svidanya! _ ” Lucifer mocked as he finished crushing the reliquary to smithereens.

A portal to Hell must’ve opened at that moment, for two tall, lanky black things came up out of the water. Lucifer cowered, but they seemed intent on picking up their prize, a weeping and pleading mystic for whom they had neither sympathy nor empathy. The smell of sulphur rang through the air as they grabbed a struggling Dick Roman by his arms and dragged him kicking and screaming over to the water’s edge, where they then jumped into the water, never to reappear again. 

Convinced that he was no longer in danger, Lucifer ran to Sam’s prone body, Balthazar trailing after him pitifully. Throwing himself over Sam’s body, Lucifer felt a tear trail down his face. “Samuel. . .” he whispered brokenly.  

Sam gave a groan of absolute agony as Lucifer moved to run his fingers soothingly through a whimpering Balthazar’s fur. He then sat up and attempted to speak. 

Lucifer, uncoordinated as always in excitement, turned with his hand in the air and ended up smacking Sam in the nose yet again. He couldn’t bring himself to care. “SAM!” he shouted jubilantly, tackling him in a hug. “I thought I lost you.” 

“For a moment,” Sam started to admit, hugging Lucifer back, “I did too.” 

“But. . .” Lucifer cocked his head to the side like a curious kitten, “I thought you were going back to St-”

“I was. . .” Sam cut Lucifer off, “but I couldn’t.”

“Why?” Lucifer asked quietly. 

The two men started to lean in towards each other, as if they could break the air with their words. 

“I don’t know why. . .” Sam began, “you’re the Tsarevitch. You’re the heir to the Russian throne. . . You can’t just. . .”

“I could live a double life. . . for you,” Lucifer said confidently. 

Sam shook his head like a very sad puppy, “I. . .I don’t think I could do that.” 

Balthazar barked, and the two of them looked at him holding Lucifer’s circlet in his mouth. 

They stood, Sam retrieving the crown and placing it on Lucifer’s head, bowing after the task was completed. 

“They’re waiting for you, your Highness,” the con man said formally. 

Lucifer made the ultimate life decision then and there. “Let them wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that’s not the way Rasputin dies in the movie, but I wanted to do something a little closer to his actual method of death.


	15. Epilogue: A Perfect Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A perfect beginning has started

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SQUEALED WRITING THIS
> 
> Thank you so much for joining me on this journey!!

_ Dear Grandpapa- _

_ Wish me luck! We’ll be together in Paris again soon. A bientot! _

Charles gave a smile and handed it to Castiel. His cousin read it, smiled and sighed. 

“They’re in love,” he stated in his gravel laden voice. “Oh, this is the  _ perfect  _ ending.” 

Charles shook his head, picking up his grandson’s crown. “No,” he said softly. “It’s the perfect beginning.” 

 

On a boat travelling along the River Seine, a former kitchen boy and con man named Samuel Winchester and His Imperial Highness, Lucifer Romanov, smiled and danced a few waltz steps before Sam mischievously picked Lucifer up into a bridal carry, much to the Tsarevitch’s delight and spun him around. Luka’s wrist was splinted by a doctor in the palace, who also returned Luka’s circlet and delivered the note to the former Tsar, and hopefully in a few weeks, Luka could remove it.  

“I thought princes didn’t fall in love with kitchen boys,” he couldn’t help but tease. 

“Sam,” Lucifer laughed, looking up at his lover with bright eyes. “Do you think I’m royalty?” 

Sam laughed. “You know I do, your Grace,” he teased, setting him down. 

“Then as a royal,” Lucifer smiled, leaning in for a warm kiss, “I can love whomever I so choose. I decree it.” 

“Well, if the heir to the Imperial Russian throne decrees it,” Sam smirked, closing the distance and kissing him warmly. It was their first kiss, and their first kiss of many that night. Luka’s hand reached up to cup Sam’s face, resting his splinted arm on Sam’s shoulder and pressing himself deeper into the kiss as he felt Sam’s hands wrap around his waist. 

“Don’t think that you’re going to get away with making me the damsel, Sam,” he whispered teasingly against his lips. 

“I would  _ never  _ think that I’d make the Tsarevitch be the woman in this,” Sam chuckled softly. “But I assume a handsome young thing like yourself has. . . experience?” 

Luka laughed warmly. “What kind of Tsarevitch would I be if I had  _ any  _ experience?” 

Sam gaped at Luka. “You mean. . .”

Luka winked playfully before kissing him again. “I guess we could consider this our wedding night?”

Sam could only nod dumbly into the kiss. “Holy Hell, Lucifer.”

Luka laughed warmly and swept Sam into a mock of a waltz to distract him from the night to come, the two of them happy and in love, not caring what they looked like to other people. 

 

On the bank of the River Seine, along  _ la rue,  _ Crowley was walking down, ducking into tailor shops and seeing if they needed a tailor. He looked out towards the river and saw a boat making its way down, and two figures dancing with each other. Squinting, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw that the figures were Sam and Lucifer. He held up a hand and waved, knowing that they couldn’t see him. 

“Long live the Tsar and give blessings unto him and his family,” he said softly. “Long live Tsar Lucifer Mikhailevich Romanov and his Consort, Samuel Winchester. May God bless you all of your days.”

Having given his blessings to the in-love royals, he went back to look for work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that you all have enjoyed this. This was my baby for so long and I loved writing every bit of it. 
> 
> Thank you, Princess, for inspiring me. 
> 
> Thank you, Ry, for beta'ing, mockery, and lots of laughter. 
> 
> And thank you, dear readers, for reading this. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny, remember, and find me on tumblr at lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Stay Shiny!!

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr at lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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